On March 2nd, 2001 my freshman-in-college self was on a quick break between dance classes when I stopped back at my dorm to refuel. The timing proved serendipitous, because it was during this one-hour window that I got the news that my sister had gone into labor and that I should try to get home.

The call came through on a landline, as my first cell phone was still over a year away. And in the midst of my excitement, I still recall consulting my paper trifold schedule to determine how quickly I could catch a train out of Grand Central to CT.

Six months later, on September 11, 2001, I used that same landline to frantically try to reach my parents, as the city I loved with all my being was consumed in soot and clouds of smoke. Emotions were erratic and heavy, but I specifically remember thinking about my new nephew. About how the world he would grow up in would be far different from one I had ever known.

Fast forward over 20 years and that thought feels immensely inadequate. The sphere we inhabit today culturally, politically and environmentally bears very little resemblance to that of just 2 decades ago. But it’s the technology – its rise, infiltration and pending domination – that leaves me wondering what life will look like 20 years from now.

I am not, by nature, a pessimist. But as I have been blessed with a new brood of nieces and nephews to look over in the past few years, my heart balloons with concern. No doubt that evolution and development have always caused divides between generations, but from where I stand, we’re on the verge of altering much more than how we function.

We are literally experimenting with what it means to be human in its organic form.

The warp speed at which we’re barreling forward seems, to me, to be so symbolic of how we value advancement at any cost. And while I don’t know the answer to pumping the breaks when it feels like the wheels have already come off, I do believe some inertia will be slowed if we could just buck the if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them mindset.

In other words, if we could find the courage to live in a way that said less is more.

It no doubt requires swimming upstream, but perhaps if more of us were willing to do it, it would start to feel like home. Maybe it could stand for an endorsement of our values, instead of just being brushed off as, well, getting old.

A good friend of mine, upon reflecting on this the other day, commented that he felt like he was meant to be living in a different era.

This resonated. Strongly. And it prompted me to think about how all change isn’t good.

So while I’ll be using my phone to check the train schedule, I will be actively seeking ways that when it comes to technology, I can go without.

You might say our future depends on it.

Personally, I see great value in demonstrating for my nieces and nephews the power in not taking the mass produced, popular route.