The Thieves in Our Hands

Screens are thieves we willingly invite into our lives.

Recently, I’ve been sitting back and quietly spying the phone habits of others, and I’m struck by how much is being pilfered from us, one pick-up at a time: silence, rest, eye contact, creativity, reading stamina, quality time, attention span. I’m currently hyper-aware of my own habits and how little I’d actually like to be on my phone. However, relapse is a persistent guest, continually knocking at the door. 

Though undeniably convenient, my heart yearns for a time before we carried computers around in our palms. The temptation is too great to look up the answer to every question and swipe up the moment we brush against an ounce of boredom. 

I don’t have the answer, but what I do know is that many of us, instead of waking up to what we are losing, are content to sit on the bottom side of the teeter-totter, phone in hand, while beauty and flesh-and-blood and the richness of real life are suspended in air, collecting dust.

Too bad time is a bully that continually pushes us forward. There is no rewind button. Our phones, meanwhile, often function as a fast-forward feature, hurrying us past the story of our own lives. Heartbreaking. 

The most effective thieves no longer break into our homes. They quietly rest in the palms of our hands. They are the great, quiet swindlers of our age. They scheme and steal unapologetically.

In this case, ignorance is not bliss.