Time Moves So Furious, So Fast. Can We Just Stand Still?

Living a rich life isn’t related to our personal velocity.

Photo by Gin Majka on Unsplash

At some point, we’ll stop breathing, the ground beneath my feet will give way and we’ll no longer register the sound of our own breath. The rhythm and pantomime of it will become lost on us, and the heart, which was once a steady metronome, a slow-beating tick of a clock, will beat so fast, so furious, that all we want to do is flee ourselves. Our desire to crawl out of our skin, which feels like paint on a wall covering a house that is crumbling, will be real. Bring on the DMT — it’s last call!

But let’s rewind the tape and think about the space between now and then.

We live our days tethered to a color-coded calendar while our ankles are chained to a desk. While we talk about how much we pay for the desk, the office — spaces in which we occupy and it occurs to us that we’re all chained to something. We have become masters of routine; we live to a repetition that carries its own symphony. We endure noise and stress simply because we’ve become accustomed to it, it’s common. Do we want what’s common?

With machines almost becoming part of our nervous systems, while increasing their speed every season, we’ve lost our Sundays, our weekends, our nights off–our holy days, as some…