How Convenience has impacted Millennials in their lifestyle, eating habits, and daily functions?
November 14, 2024Can I Re-embrace the “Forgotten” Connection?
Felicia Rimba
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In a world of screens and fleeting light, Connections fade like stars from sight. Through glowing threads, we bridge the divide, Yet we miss the warmth of hearts nearby.
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I often find myself caught in the paradox of our times. We live in an age where a single tap on the screen can bridge the gap between countries, yet somehow, the distance between hearts seems to grow wider. Technology, with all its sophistication, has become both a gift and a challenging intricate thread woven into my life. My days begin with the hum of notifications and end with the quiet monotony of scrolling through social media. Through the glow of my screen, I am tethered to my loved ones, no matter how many time zones separate us. Yet, amidst all this connectivity, there’s an ache I can’t seem to define, a gap I can’t seem to
fill in.
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The forest hums, a gentle blow, No Wi-Fi binds, fear creeps me slow. Birdsong dances, the river flows, Presence blooms where silence grows.
***
One fine day, I stumbled upon a quote saying:
“There’s no Wi-Fi in the forest, but you’ll find stronger connection.” ~ Jess Stuart
Those words ignited a memory. It was a school farewell trip to the forest, a 2-hour journey from my hometown. Surrounded by endless shades of green and blue, I could hear nothing but the gentle cadence of birdsong and the soothing flow of the river. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, and the tickling splash of water on my feet brought a rare sense of presence. There was no Wi-Fi, no signal tethering us to the digital realm we were so accustomed to. At first, it felt disorienting, as though I’d forgotten how to breathe without the steady pulse of online connection. But as hours melted into moments, I felt a quiet shift within me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t lost in a digital fog. Instead, I was present—fully, wholly, vibrantly there. The laughter of my friends, the warmth of stories shared around a campfire under the stars, the simple joy of dipping my feet into the cool river—it was all grounding. The connection I felt wasn’t to a signal or a device; it was to the people around me and the world itself. And when I looked back on that trip, I realized it wasn’t just the setting that created this magic—it was the absence of distractions, the quiet demand for presence, the forest.
This memory often resurfaces when I think about the way we interact with technology. The way we interact with technology is a paradox: digital communication platforms are designed to bring us closer to those far away, but at the same time, they seem to pull us farther from those right beside us. I recall a lunch with friends where, in the middle of our conversation, a pause of silence led each of us to instinctively reach for our phones. The moment felt like a “recharge,” but it also marked the end of our lively chat. It made me question: Are we truly connecting, or are we merely coexisting in the same space?
Looking deeper into connection, the idea of relationships has also seemed to be rewritten with an illusion of infinite possibilities that also brings exhaustion and doubt: Can true connection thrive in a world curated by algorithms and filters? Digital communication platforms, initially designed with the noble goal of convenience to bridge the gap of individuals within spaces, have now seemed to be a gateway for fleeting connections instead of authentic interactions. But does the fault really lie on the app or is it us scapegoating it all along? In our quest for convenience, have we unintentionally deprived ourselves of the beauty and complexity of authentic connections?
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Forget-me-nots, in quiet bloom, Whisper of bonds that time can’t consume. A knight’s last wish, a flower’s plea, To hold him close, eternally.
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In this vision, the forget-me-not flower became my silent muse. The forget-me-not flower tale is about the story of a knight that fell into the river while picking the lovely blue flowers for his lady. As the currents pulled him away, he tossed her the flower and called out, “Forget me not.” Ever since, this unassuming blossom has carried the weight of devotion and enduring connection. In the language of flowers, the forget-me-not holds the message of the bond of connection—values that resonate deeply with my design philosophy. Its message reminds us to cherish moments and relationships, no matter how complex they may seem. It is, perhaps, a reminder of what technology cannot replace—the depth of human connection and the beauty of presence.
Just like how the lady never forgets the knight’s last wish, can we never forget the authentic connection we once made no matter how complex the journey is? Isn’t complexity beautiful? Maybe we just haven’t found our own forest?
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Forget-me-nots, in quiet bloom, Whisper of bonds that time can’t consume. A knight’s last wish, a flower’s plea, To hold him close, eternally.
***
As a high school student, I once viewed design merely as an aesthetic approach, only limiting myself to creating visually appealing products. However, slowly as I began my journey here as a designer, I learned that there are more layers in it. Design is also about problem solving and an approach to enhance lifestyle. But as I explored the overwhelming number of applications, of course all are designed with noble intentions, I started questioning: Are we all caught up in digitalization? Has design now only revolve on crafting convenience? For a moment, I felt design was nothing special, it seemed to be just another approach to help creating an increasingly automated world.
And so, as I sit with these silent thoughts, I can’t ignore the reality that our world has been so consumed by digital convenience that rejecting it entirely feels impossible. In every design approach, convenience seems to be the priority, but in that pursuit, have we abandoned authenticity? Therefore, I believe there is a way to bridge the gap between the two realms, which I learned to be called fourth space. As a designer, these thoughts weigh on me, can I reembrace this “forgotten” connection? I reflected on my forest trip again and questioned myself: How can I embrace the forgotten beauty of organic connections in a world so consumed by digital convenience? What if the mundane could become magical? What if design could nudge us toward serendipity, turning the everyday into an opportunity for authentic connection?
Weighing on all these thoughts, I came to realize that I don’t want to design just for convenience nor aesthetic. Instead of efficiency at the expense of authenticity, I want to design to celebrate presence, the kind of moments that linger in memory, like the laughter around a campfire or the tickle of river water on my feet.
In floriography (language of flowers), forget-me-not symbolizes lasting remembrance just as its name. When paired with larkspur, they convey the message of “remember the good times” (Roux, 2020).
Can we never forget the complexity and beauty of authentic connections? Can I remembrance this forgotten connection through my design innovation?
Reference
- Stuart, J. (n.d.). There’s No Wi-Fi in the Forest, but You’ll Get a Stronger Connection. Tiny Buddha. Available at: There’s No WiFi in Nature but You’ll Get a Stronger Connection [Accessed 16 April 2025].
- Roux, J. (2020). Floriography: An Illustrated Guide to the Victorian Language of Flowers. New York: Andrews McMeel Publishing [Accessed 16 April 2025].