The morning after my keynote in Alaska this week, I found myself at my favorite cafe in downtown Anchorage. It reminds me of a million little brunch spots I’ve loved. Colorful. Delicious. Busy. So, for this special occasion and the first time in a long time, I decided to not look at my phone during the meal. 

At first it felt a little uncomfortable. I spent a lot of my 20s traveling alone on business trips and married to a Deloitte consultant who traveled more than I’d ever like to. The culturally acceptable way to go to a restaurant alone is to sit at the bar and quietly scroll. That’s what everyone else sitting at the bar next to me was doing. But not today, not me, I thought as I looked around to take in all the beautiful little details. 

The first thing I noticed was the server looking at me with a questioning glance. Not the “are you a boy or a girl” look, but wondering where my phone was. Mid-conversation, mid-silence, across the room I noticed so many people on their phones. As I scanned the room, I accidentally made eye contact with strangers and turned away quickly to stare at the art above the register. A coffee pot. A salt shaker. A beautiful painting of the view from across the street during winter: glowing windows in a dark sky.  

Then, I listened as conversations passed behind me. I was situated near the host stand and could hear them ask each family how they were doing. "Good," they said. "It’s my first time in Alaska," another excitedly responded. The host smiled and politely responded, “Welcome back” or “You’re going to love it.”  

I peered through the metal framed window to see the magic of a well-run kitchen and restaurant. One person started the coffee. Without a word, the next person to pass finished making the pot. The server noticed a half empty cup, another table looking for them, and a spill. He dropped a rag on the table as he refilled coffee, making the impossible job of pleasing hungry people look easy. 

Smiles. Laughter. It seemed like they were actually having fun at work. “Did you hear that song,” one barista said to another as Elton John’s Candle In The Wind played quietly under the buzz of the full restaurant. It has been a long time since I heard that song anywhere besides a grocery store. 

I can see what’s beautiful in the world more clearly with my phone tucked in my pocket. The more I scroll, the easier it is to believe that everything is bad. Especially with a handheld, masterful propaganda tool in hand with a news feed that feels tailored to each of my worst fears. I know the scroll slowly sucks away the joy but in this pause to look around this room, my heart feels full. My doom is temporarily exchanged for the joy of noticing how beautiful people really can be. I wonder what beautiful thing might you see if you stopped looking at your phone for an hour.