I have never been very good with technology and when it comes to

Tony Hadley, with honesty that carries both humor and humility, once declared: “I have never been very good with technology and when it comes to gadgets I normally lag pretty far behind my friends.” At first glance, his words may seem light, a simple confession of personal weakness. Yet beneath the jest lies a truth of universal weight: that progress does not move at the same pace for all, and that wisdom is not measured by mastery of machines. To admit such a thing is not shame, but courage—the courage to stand apart from the frenzy of novelty, to recognize one’s place in the great river of change.

The ancients knew well that every new tool reshaped the world. When the plow first cut into the earth, many resisted it, clinging to the old ways of hand and hoe. When writing spread, some decried it as a corruption of memory, fearing that men would grow forgetful. Hadley’s words echo this eternal human experience: the feeling of being outpaced by the march of invention. To “lag behind” in the realm of technology is not new—it is the story of every generation. And yet, humanity has always carried forward, each person finding their own rhythm in the great symphony of progress.

Consider the story of Socrates, who distrusted the written word. He warned that reliance on writing would weaken the living memory and dilute wisdom. While his friends and followers embraced scrolls and ink, Socrates remained wary, preferring the spoken dialogue. In the end, the written word transformed civilization, but Socrates’ skepticism reminds us that falling behind in new tools does not erase one’s worth or insight. So too with Hadley: his strength lies not in gadgets, but in song and artistry, gifts that no device can replace.

Hadley’s words also carry a reminder about humility in the face of change. Many strive desperately to appear knowledgeable, to master every new tool lest they seem foolish. Yet Hadley freely admits his lack of skill, showing that dignity is not found in pretending mastery, but in accepting our own limits with grace. To confess, “I lag behind my friends,” is not weakness, but a kind of wisdom—an understanding that one cannot be swift in all things, and that true value lies in staying true to oneself.

There is also a lesson here about balance. The world dazzles with gadgets, each promising to improve life, to entertain, to simplify. But not all who rush toward them find fulfillment. Some become slaves to the very devices they sought as servants. To lag behind is sometimes to remain free. To step slowly is sometimes to step wisely. Hadley reminds us that technology is not the measure of happiness, nor is it the soul’s truest companion. The deeper treasures—friendship, music, love—remain untouched by the latest screen or machine.

History gives us another mirror in the figure of Leonardo da Vinci. Though he envisioned machines centuries ahead of his time, many of his peers lagged far behind, unable to grasp his vision. And yet, their lives were no less meaningful for it. Indeed, the great story of humanity is woven not only by those who leap forward but also by those who walk steadily, grounding the world as others race ahead. Hadley’s words place him among this second company: those who may not master the newest gadgets, but who contribute in other ways, anchoring the heart of human culture.

So, dear listener, take this wisdom as your own: do not despair if you lag behind in technology, nor envy those who sprint ahead in every new device. Instead, honor your own pace, and remember that your worth is not measured by the gadgets you wield but by the gifts you bring to others. Learn what you must, embrace what is useful, but never forget that the greatest tools of all are timeless: patience, creativity, friendship, and love. For in the end, no machine can replace the depth of the human spirit. Better to lag behind in gadgets and lead in wisdom than to master machines and lose the heart.