The double-edged sword of technological convenience - part 1

In our relentless quest to make life easier, we’ve seen the rapid acceleration of science and technology since the Industrial Revolution. What started as a series of simple inventions—machines to ease human labour—has blossomed into a sprawling web of digital tools and conveniences that make nearly every aspect of life faster, smoother, and, theoretically, more efficient. We’ve become explorers of efficiency, seeking out ways to streamline our days so that we can do more, rest more, and have more. But beneath this veneer of convenience, there’s a growing tension—a fraying of our collective nerves.

The appetite for convenience, once whetted, only grows. With each new innovation, our threshold for discomfort lowers. We can’t just send a letter; we need instant messaging. We don’t want to wait in line; we demand delivery apps. And while the immediate rewards of such technology are undeniable, they carry an unspoken cost. When everything becomes easy, when friction in life is sanded down to near non-existence, we lose touch with the value of being present.

As we’re given more access to distraction through our phones and digital media, we find ourselves slipping further from the here and now. It’s so easy to pick up your phone when you’re waiting in line or scrolling through social media during a conversation. The act of distraction is almost reflexive now, and in doing so, we rob ourselves of experiencing reality in all its textures—both good and bad. We avoid the uncomfortable pauses, the awkward silences, and the slow moments of life where reflection might take place. The very act of feeling what’s going on around us is dismissed as unproductive, something to be escaped from.

When I look at the younger generation, I see how this omnipresence of technology shapes their ability to sit with discomfort. Born into a world where distraction is always within arm’s reach, they may never know what it’s like to sit in silence, to be bored. I grew up hearing that “being bored is healthy,” and I believe it. Boredom is the fertile soil where creativity takes root, where our minds wander and solve problems, and where emotions rise to the surface to be acknowledged. But in a world where endless entertainment and distraction are always available, is it even possible to be bored anymore?

Constantly avoiding discomfort impacts our creativity, resilience, and even our learning ability. When we do not allow ourselves to sit with our emotions—whether they be pain, sadness, frustration, or boredom—we lose the opportunity to grow from them. We cut ourselves off from the lessons they might teach us. It’s so easy now to pick up our phones when we feel a pang of sadness or unease. At a party, on the bus, or even in the middle of an argument, we reach for the escape hatch that technology offers us.

I’ve noticed this trend in even the most mundane places. Take the gym, for example. Each time I go, I see so many people glued to their phones. Between sets, during exercises, and sometimes even on the treadmill, there’s more scrolling than sweating going on. I can’t help but wonder—what’s their intention? Did they come to the gym to work on their bodies or to distract themselves? And, in a broader sense, how often are we doing things in life half-heartedly, our attention split between the task at hand and the constant lure of our phones?

I find myself sitting with these questions more and more lately. As someone deeply curious about how we create our lives, I’m beginning to wonder how we can craft a more meaningful existence amidst the distractions. How can we strike a balance between enjoying the fruits of technology without allowing them to rob us of our presence in the moment? This is an inquiry that I invite you to sit with too.

My inquiry for us: How do we use technology to enhance our lives without losing touch with the richness of reality?

Stay tuned for Part 2, where we’ll explore how the very tools designed to make our lives easier may also be amplifying global tensions and what that means for our collective future.