You might remember a song from the ’90s called “Lucky Night,” by Björk’s unserious pre-solo band, the Sugarcubes. It starts, “I’ve tried a lot, and most things excite me; but what tops it all is doing two things at a time.” Björk and Einar then take turns listing possible pairings that she describes as “charming.”

Einar just sing-songs pairs of nouns:

Life and death, Glass and water
Rock and roll, wash and dirty
Christ and Jesus, time and hours… 

But Björk describes activities. You think maybe she is going to say something sexy and transgressive, but actually it’s very normal activities that apparently thrill her: 

To drive a car and listen to music.
To read a book and ride a train…

Sugarcubes’ songs are not designed to be analyzed, so I won’t do that. But for some reason, this one stuck in my head, and I can’t help thinking about how it wouldn’t just be a trifling little song today; it would be nonsensical. I never do only one thing at a time. It is always something—plus a phone. 

To drive a car and be on your phone
To listen to music and be on your phone
To ride a train and be on your phone
To fall in love and be on your phone
To not sleep and and be on your phone
To watch TV and be on your phone
To cuddle and be on your phone

Or in Einar’s mode:

Watch and phone
God and phone
Hammer and phone
Babies and phone

It is not something I try to do so as to make one plus one equal three, as the song promises; it is just how it is. I have my phone with me in the bathroom, in the car, while I’m cooking, while I’m eating, while I’m cleaning, when I’m working, while I am allegedly sleeping. When I am at church, I do turn my phone’s ringer off, but I sure don’t leave it at home. I would never.

Obviously, my phone isn’t all bad. I use it to listen to music, to identify birds and flowers, to be in touch with my kids in an emergency, to chat with my friends and my husband, to find recipes and instructions and helpful advice, and to take photos and videos of wonderful things that other people enjoy seeing. But overall, “Life and Phone” has not been an improvement, to put it mildly.

My phone’s omnipresence sucks the life out of whatever else I am doing. It always drains something from the other thing, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. It is like a needy infant that requires constant heightened attention, even when it is asleep; but unlike an infant, it never stops being hungry, and unlike an infant, it offers so very little compared to what it snatches away. 

That is what my phone does to me, a middle-aged mom from New England who is at least trying to be good and not waste my life. We don’t have to imagine what it does to foolish young men who are hungry for meaning, hungry for praise, hungry for clout, and who have their phones with them all the time, pouring poison into their faces morning, noon and night, sucking away their power to see humanity. We know what young men plus phones adds up to, more and more often. There is no non-dramatic way to put it: It tells them to kill, and to etch little phrases from memes on the bullet casings. Expect to see more of this.

I do not know what to do about it, other than weep and pray. Argue and repent. Push my kids to be online less and set a better example myself. Two things at the same time. 

I’m also working on doing one thing at a time. Just one thing, without my phone. Just tend to my garden, without my phone, and witness the water sink into the soil, watch the last bees of the season bustle away in busy irritation, behold the orange sunset, catch the droplets as they roll off pumpkin leaves.

Just cook dinner, without my phone, and see the bits of onion shiver in the hot oil, smell the clouds of fragrant steam float up past my face, feel the catch of little burnt bits under my wooden spoon when I deglaze the pan.

Just read a book, without my phone. Just watch TV with my kids, without my phone. Just be in bed, without my phone. Just step outside to look at the stars, without my phone. And when I did this, I could see the stars, even though the sky was hazy, because my pupils weren’t massively dilated, because I hadn’t been on my phone.  

I’m not giving up my phone. It’s too useful and too entertaining, and frankly, I’m too weak to do something that hard. But I’m working, at least, on deciding to do one thing at a time. If that one thing is being on my phone, that’s O.K. But if that one thing is doing anything else, I’m going to just do that one thing. One thing at a time. It adds up to more than what it is because the world as it is is very rich. 

You alt-rock ’90s kids can sing it with me: 

Crême de la crême
Is doing one thing at a time. 

The sky of the culture we live in is heavy with haze and clouds, but there are just as many stars as ever. They are still there, I promise you. God has given us a mortal life that is full and captivating and teeming with meaning. It’s not enough in itself! The world, even in its deep beauty, is not all we need. But its deficits don’t need to be supplemented with distraction in order to add up to something. 

What we need is to do one thing at a time. Let the pupils of your soul dilate, and be ready to see more. 

Simcha Fisher is a speaker, freelance writer, regular contributor to The Catholic Weekly and author of The Sinner’s Guide to Natural Family Planning. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and 10 children.