The sound of a chirping bird, the pleasant rustle of leaves beneath our feet, the soothing cackle of a far-off brook; aren’t these the ambient sounds we’ve often taken for granted? Now, the once pervasive symphony of nature is drowned in the cacophony of pings, dings, and trills from our pocket-sized-tech-totems. The Smartphone! An apt emblem of progression or a silent tyrant leading a hushed revolution, encroaching its dominion further into our lives each day.
Scanning the room during my latest stint at the local Schenectady Rotary club, I caught sight of blinking screens cutting through the dimmed auditorium light, the mechanical swipes and taps replacing the once lively chatter that used to fill this space. In an attempt to capture the moment, people often miss the moment itself. Progress? Well, I’d argue that’s up for debate.
Their eyes seemed bound in a tight embrace with those incandescent screens, every tap, swipe, and scroll edging them deeper into the digital abyss. A sight all too common, yet each occurrence nudges me several anecdotes back in time. You see, I had the privilege of growing up in an era where your interaction metric with the world wasn’t governed by the amount of screen time you consumed. Interaction was real, and the world was a colossal, mysterious playground waiting to be discovered, not a mere augmented reality snapshot bound by the edges of a 6-inch screen.
Now, to give context, I am not a technophobe or a stodgy curmudgeon averse to change. I came of age between the advent of the home computer and the mass distribution of cable television – and as a Schenectady native, I take a certain hometown pride in the generations of progress here. General Electric and American Locomotive Company were the cradle of Schenectady’s industrial boom, the progenitors of an age where gears and pistons counted more than likes and retweets. We Schenectadians have been on the frontlines of technology since our bloody uprising against the British in 1777.
However, this smartphone-induced digital voyeurism is another beast altogether – an unseen opponent in the ring, weaving in our lives with a seasoned boxer’s finesse. These devices promise connectivity but often deliver isolation. And while the dopamine shot resulting from a barrage of likes and comments form an intangible high, the more profound human connections are left to rot in the tangible world, which we conveniently choose to ignore.
Our real-life community interactions are increasingly being overshadowed by these digital engagements, burning away our time that could’ve been spent nurturing more meaningful relations, or maybe even catching that thieving raccoon that’s been running amuck in my backyard. Yes, our smartphones claim their domain in 100% real-life experiences too.
Gary Turk, in his thought-provoking poem “Look Up”, rightly stated that we’re “a generation of idiots, smart phones and dumb people”. We have become so consumed in showcasing the ‘version’ of life that we want people to see rather than living a life that we’d be proud to showcase.
Take for example, the local diner downtown. The “Home of the World’s Best Pancakes”, they claim. A no-frills place, been there since the dawn of Schenectady. You’d always find good conversation there amidst the clatter of utensils and the clanking of plates. Now? It feels like an ad-shoot location. People so engrossed in clicking their food in the ‘right light’, that the pancakes grow cold. Cold pancakes, and colder conversations. That’s progress, eh?
In an age of incessant information influx, smartphones have rendered us beings of perpetual distraction. Our cognitive energy is constantly sliced into pixel-sized pieces, fed to the digital demon in varied doses. The resulting cognitive overload often confers no room for introspection and imagination, two facets deeply engraved within human nature.
So, how about we put down these glowing tyrants and take a minute to savor the dusk-painted skies, strike up that conversation with the friendly Joe at the corner store, or just sit and bask in the beautiful ambiguity of seemingly mundane moments.
Who knows, the joy found in learning or experiencing something new from your interaction with Joe might just outweigh the micro-dose of dopamine triggered by a new social media “like”. Life, in my humble perspective, should not be viewed through the screen of your smartphone; instead, it ought to be lived organically, breathing in experiences as they naturally come, not polished and filtered for digital consumption.
Striking a balance is key. Of course, I won’t argue that smartphones are the embodiment of evil. They’re not. They’re just tools, wielded differently by different hands, and therein lies the issue. It’s not a question of abandoning these devices altogether but rather of intelligently integrating them into our lives. Step back, reassess and bring back balance. Explore the world beyond those pixeled borders and bring back the vitality of holistic human experiences unmarred by the synthetic appeal of the digital realm.
In a nutshell, the smartphone isn’t the problem; it is our unhealthy relationship with it that needs to be addressed. Well, I guess it’s a fair time to put my writing pad down and glower at that darn raccoon who’s made another audacious raid on my trash bin. A task conveniently devoid of any smartphone distraction, except maybe capturing the rascal’s escapades on camera. Schenectady’s raccoon vigilante at your service – here’s to less screen time and more real-time.
