The hidden price of a convenient life

As we waited to board our plane home earlier this week, my sister-in-law and husband posed some hypothetical conversation starters about trading resources (money and time) for a faster travel experience (walking through a portal and immediately arriving at your destination).

What amount of money would you be willing to pay to walk through a portal and immediately arrive at your destination? Would you do it for $1000 per trip? What about $5000?

What if we removed money from the equation, and you could walk through a portal to travel anywhere in the world in seconds, but it took one week off your life for each trip?

There are no right or wrong answers. It’s simply a matter of what you’re willing to sacrifice for convenience, which got me thinking: What is the cost of convenience? Are we taking a hard look at the tradeoffs when we choose short-term gratification?

Convenience surrounds us with grocery deliveries, smart home devices, texting and instant messaging, streaming platforms, same-day shipping, one-click checkout, task automation, AI-powered everything, and more.

I love and take advantage of many modern-day conveniences. You probably do too. We assume convenience frees up time and makes our lives easier, but does it really? What are we trading for instant gratification?

There’s a deep tension between the ease of modern-day life and the craving to live deliberately. Convenience and instant gratification:

• Erode presence by reducing anticipation and effort (e.g., food delivery vs. the aromas, conversations, and effort that come with cooking)

• Create the illusion of more time (but we don’t always spend freed-up time intentionally)

• Reduce our patience (because everything happens fast!)

• Encourage bursts of dopamine over lasting fulfillment and meaning-making

• Can devalue effort and craftsmanship depending on the activity

• Present fewer opportunities to engage with other humans in present conversations

If you’re trading resources for more time (don’t all conveniences somehow lead back to “saving time?”), consider the tradeoffs.

What presence, intimacy, and meaning do we lose when we pursue instant gratification over the longer route? The path of minimal friction is the one of least resistance, but it can also be the one devoid of meaning. We fool ourselves into believing we’re saving time, only to fill the time with more noise.

Sometimes, it’s better to book a connecting flight with a layover, sit at the gate with your people, and lose yourself in conversation over different perspectives.

Time well spent: something to ponder

I wrote about The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows* in a previous issue, but I love revisiting the book this time of year. I’m sitting with this word a lot lately:

Your next intentional move

Check out the full list of intentional prompts and share it with someone you love!

Until next time

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I’m Alyssa Towns, and this is Time Intentional, a newsletter exploring what it means to spend our limited (and precious) time intentionally. Extend your love and support by sharing this newsletter with someone you know or buying me a coffee! ☕

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