The habit at the red light

On the road from Sharjah into Dubai, watch what drivers do when the light turns red.

Almost every hand goes to the phone. Not to call anyone. Just to look. A thumb moves up the screen for forty seconds, the light changes, the phone goes face down on the seat, and at the next junction it happens again.

Nobody decided this. There was no morning when a person told themselves that from now on every pause in the day would be filled with a feed. It arrived a few seconds at a time, and by the time anyone could have noticed, it was part of the drive, and then part of the person. Ask them what they do on the way to work and they will say they listen to the radio. They will not mention the twenty small dips into the screen, because they do not see them.

Most of what fills a day came in like this. The first thing we look at on waking, the way we eat lunch, the order in which we check the same few things, what plays in the background at night. Habits nobody chose end up describing who we are and where the hours went.

The hopeful part is that a habit can be chosen after the fact. A ritual put there on purpose, with intent behind it, changes how a day feels and, slowly, how a person thinks.

That only begins once you catch the hand moving towards the phone.