I wasn’t born with a mobile phone in my hand. In fact, at that time, they didn’t even exist. Nowadays, it seems that you only have to be six years old before you get given your first mobile phone. It’s almost become an epidemic.
Recently, a friend told Ell about a study that took place about a different aspect of modern technology: two groups of teenagers were sent into separate rooms to play a computer game. One group played a football game, the other a killing game. When the kids were brought into a room to be interviewed afterwards, the interviewer would ‘accidentally’ drop something on the floor. The kids who had been playing the football game invariably helped pick the dropped object up off the floor, or at the very least, ask if the interviewer was alright. However, the kids who had been playing the game in which they murdered people, did nothing. No help. No engagement. No concern. In some cases, it didn’t appear as if they even registered that anything had happened. They were detached, disengaged, disconnected.
Our kids are becoming disconnected from who they really are, wandering far from home, stuck in an alternate, illusory reality. It’s a sad state of affairs that could have dire consequences for the next generation and the one after that - all in the name of progress.
Technology isn’t good or bad. The question to ask is, “What is it for?” It’s more about our intention. Are we using it to connect, or to disconnect? Are we using it for loving purposes, or fearful ones? Are we using it in service of Spirit or a higher purpose, or to reinforce the very guilt and shame that we seek to avoid in the first place?
The ego is ruthless in its quest for autonomy, and it will happily rip our lives apart. It is obsessed with separation – separate homes, separate bodies, separate lives. The very ‘advancements’ that are supposed to bring us closer together often leave us feeling further apart. It’s time to realize that freedom doesn’t come through the latest phone, computer game or tablet computer.
Maybe it is time to simplify things – to turn off the phone, become still, and listen. Because underneath all this, we are vulnerable. Maybe it seems easier to disconnect, because we are terrified that we don’t count or matter, or that what we have to say isn’t important. We believe that we have to hide ourselves, that it’s easier to live half dead, to become a ragged champion in a small corner of the dream, rather than step into the magnificence of our lives.