“Every moment, each challenge, every internal response is here to illuminate precisely what you must release to attain freedom.” ~Michael A. Singer
The other day, while in the kitchen, I picked up my phone to text, but it failed to recognize my face. Consequently, each time I wanted to use it, I had to input my four-digit code. Though the entire process was under two seconds, I found myself sighing in frustration every single time.
My reaction astonished me. Had I become so used to immediacy that even a minuscule delay felt irritating?
The speed of our lives has shifted dramatically in just one generation. My mother, who was born in 1928, was raised in a small town in Hungary where her family sourced water from a well in the town center. She couldn’t simply turn on a tap—water for cleaning, cooking, and bathing had to be transported in buckets for over a mile and heated on a coal stove.
My mother’s phone number was 2, the post office was 1, and all calls had to be connected by live operators. The idea of FaceTime would have seemed utterly ridiculous.
I was born in Brooklyn in 1963 and grew up waiting an entire year for the annual television broadcasts of my favorite films: The Wizard of Oz and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. For years, if I needed to make a call away from home, I had to wait my turn at a payphone with coins in hand.
When my children were small, we stood in lines to drop off film for development and then waited days to see the pictures. We waited in lines at banks, video rental places, and record shops. When we ventured to unfamiliar places, we had to stop at gas stations to ask for directions and buy paper maps that were nearly impossible to refold.
Now, having to enter a passcode to unlock a phone that gives me immediate access to a vast world of information, entertainment, and connection has become a source of irritation.
This incident with my malfunctioning Face ID vividly highlighted one of the drawbacks of contemporary technology. Speed is tempting because every shortcut—one-click shopping, AI-generated search results, text messaging, instant payment apps—subtly conditions us to anticipate immediacy. We adapt so swiftly that yesterday’s wonders morph into today’s standards, and even two additional seconds can seem unacceptable.
Patience—our capacity to remain composed when life doesn’t unfold as quickly as we desire or in the manner we prefer—grows through repetition. However, waiting only serves as beneficial practice if we’re willing to stay present with feelings of frustration and discomfort rather than automatically seeking a distraction.
Learning to navigate life’s minor frustrations assists us in better managing the larger ones, but numerous conveniences remove a bit of the friction that helps us develop this emotional muscle, emphasizing the need to exercise it intentionally.
By practicing the release of our need for things to go our way, we enhance our distress tolerance.
Low distress tolerance has been associated with anxiety, depression, substance use, eating disorders, and various forms of psychological distress. Enhancing our distress tolerance—increasing our ability to experience uncomfortable thoughts, emotions, urges, or physical sensations without instantly attempting to escape them—is closely linked to improved mental health.
Not so long ago, everyday life was filled with ample time to let your thoughts wander, like lengthy walks to and from the community well. While we have quickly adapted to modern technology, our minds and nervous systems still require regular chances when we aren’t overwhelmed with new information so we can slow down, reflect, and process our experiences.
Delving deeper into my Face ID frustration, I realized how much impatience ties to presence—the willingness and capability to wholly embrace life in the moment.
When we feel impatience, we are essentially dismissing the present moment. We wish for it to end or for something else to transpire. It’s the impulse to rush forward into a different moment instead of slowing down and relaxing into reality as it exists.
As an experiment, I opted not to immediately attempt to rectify my Face ID issue. Instead of treating this inconvenience as a problem to fix, I decided to use it as an opportunity to reveal deeper truths about myself and my relationship with my phone.
I observed how infrequently I resist my phone’s strong allure and how constant, rapid connectivity reinforces the overtly hurried pace at which I navigate life. It also keeps me predominantly immersed in my thoughts rather than fully inhabiting my body.
The brief pause required to input my code provided just enough space to practice cultivating the qualities I aspire to embody—relaxation, groundedness, and ease—rather than hurriedly plunging into the world of screens. Every time I encountered the touch screen and noticed my annoyance surge, it became a chance to take a deep breath or two and consciously return to myself and the present moment.
The more I engaged with this experiment, the more I recognized similar invitations to take a pause and reclaim my agency.
Impatience appears frequently: sitting at a red traffic light, waiting in a long line at the grocery store, or arguing with an AI chatbot that persistently misinterprets my request while I’m attempting to reach a real person. All of these moments serve as opportunities to resist the urge to grab my phone or another habitual distraction—strengthening my ability to remain present with the reality before me.
Each time I could sense tension escalating when I wished for a moment to conclude or transform, I sought to relax and observe the agitation instead of trying to eliminate the trigger. In doing so, I felt more connected to the wisest, most balanced part of myself that can stay steady in any circumstance.
A few days later, after restarting my phone for an unrelated cause, Face ID unexpectedly began functioning again. I was taken aback to find that my initial reaction was disappointment. What had once seemed like an annoying glitch had transformed into an unforeseen gift.
My malfunctioning Face ID taught me that each little annoyance has the power to awaken us.
Every impulse to speed up can turn into an invitation to slow down, and every minor frustration can become a chance to practice presence. Every time we opt to accept life as it is rather than resisting it, we bolster our capacity to confront life with greater peace and resilience.
About Myra Goodman
Myra Goodman is the award-winning author of four books and the creator of Quest for Eternal Sunshine—an online platform offering free resources for healing and well-being. In her first career, Myra co-founded Earthbound Farm, where she spent thirty years growing the company from a backyard garden into the world’s largest grower of organic produce. Sign up for her free monthly newsletter and follow her work on Instagram and Facebook.
**Lessons on Mindfulness from My Experience with a Broken Face ID**
In our rapid, technology-oriented world, we often overlook the comforts that our devices offer. One such comfort is the Face ID feature on smartphones, which allows for swift and secure access to our devices. However, when my Face ID unexpectedly failed, it became a prompt for reflection and mindfulness. Here are the insights I gained from this experience.
**1. Seeking Acceptance of Imperfection**
The initial lesson was about accepting imperfections. My dependence on Face ID had habituated me to an effortless experience. When it failed, I felt a surge of frustration. Yet, this moment reminded me that perfection is an illusion, even in technology. Accepting imperfection enabled me to embrace the situation and concentrate on finding alternative solutions instead of fixating on what was missing.
**2. Fostering Patience**
With a nonfunctional Face ID, I had to revert to entering my passcode manually. This seemingly trivial inconvenience turned into a lesson in patience. Rather than hurrying through the process, I learned to slow down and relish the moment. Each time I unlocked my phone, I took a breath and reminded myself that patience is a valuable trait, especially in a world that often champions instant satisfaction.
**3. Enhancing Presence**
The situation also underscored the significance of being present. Without the rapid access provided by Face ID, I became more conscious of my surroundings. I started to notice aspects I had previously ignored, such as the splendor of nature during my daily commute or the conversations happening around me. This shift in attention reinforced the concept that being present can amplify our appreciation of life’s simple joys.
**4. Releasing the Need for Control**
When technology malfunctions, it can evoke a sense of losing control. My first reaction was to attempt an immediate fix, but I soon recognized that some matters are beyond our command. This experience imparted the lesson of valuing acceptance and acknowledging that not everything can be handled or resolved promptly. By letting go of the need for control, I discovered a sense of freedom and diminished anxiety.
**5. Exploring Alternatives**
The failure of my Face ID encouraged me to investigate alternatives. I began using other features on my phone that I had previously ignored, like voice commands and biometric fingerprint recognition. This exploration revealed the versatility of technology and the necessity of adaptability. It reminded me that there are often multiple paths to achieving our aims, and being open to alternatives can lead to fresh insights.
**6. Contemplating Dependency**
Lastly, my encounter with a dysfunctional Face ID prompted me to reflect on my reliance on technology. I realized how much I had come to depend on it for convenience and security. This realization ignited a desire to cultivate a more balanced relationship with technology, ensuring that it serves my needs rather than the reverse. Mindfulness encourages us to evaluate our habits and make deliberate decisions about our interactions with the digital realm.
**Conclusion**
The journey of dealing with a broken Face ID was more than just a technical inconvenience; it became a profound lesson in mindfulness. By embracing imperfection, fostering patience, enhancing presence, releasing control, exploring alternatives, and contemplating dependency, I gained insights that extend beyond technology. These lessons remind us that even in times of frustration, there exists a chance for growth and mindfulness.