Picture this scene.

You’re walking outside underneath a beautiful, eve- ning glow. The sun shines its incandescent rays, now a fading, dim orange, onto the sidewalk in front of you. The sky above seems like it is melting from a creamy, light blue to a darker hue of red. Small oak trees lined in a row like towering sentinels cast stretching shadows that dart across the sidewalk. The chorus of children laughing somewhere far away mingles with the soft breeze tickling your skin.

A group of college students, with backpacks slung on their shoulders, passes you on your right. You turn, expecting them to be basking in the beautiful evening. They’re not. You watch as the ve students dive their noses into their small iPhone screens, completely absent from the vibrant world around them.

Fast forward. Now you’re in a dimly lit restau- rant, with booths sprawled in front of you and a litter of tables to your right. You watch as the parents of a family stare like zombies at the TV placed in their booth. The little boy laughs as he shovels macaroni into his mouth and races his finger across an iPad, playing a game. The teenage girl next to him flicks through her Instagram posts.

You aren’t sure they even know each other.

We have one, wonderful life on this planet, and we’re missing it. We’re missing the beautiful world and people around us. We instead choose to share our lives with cellphones. In reality, there is no fast forward, no rewind. We have one chance to see what this world has to offer us, to make connections with people in our lives, yet we’re choosing an inanimate, elec- tronic device over that.

Technology is amazing and has brought us wonders; it has helped change people’s lives and innovated our fu- ture. But there comes a point when we abuse that privilege, when we encase ourselves in- side of a shell and bar out the rest of humanity, focusing only on the next text or the next tweet.

We can change that. We can live with this technolo- gy—we just have to be smart. Place your phone in the mid- dle of the table during dinner. Turn your phone o before every class. Don’t use it at work unless it is important. Sparingly use your phone with friends and loved ones. The little things matter, and what we do now can change the future.

Now, picture this; You’re back in the restaurant, and you see the college stu- dents from earlier in a booth. Their phones are stacked in the middle, completing al- most a tower. They’re laugh- ing, giggling, slapping each other on the back. They’re winding down their day with the joy of human company.

This time, you smile.