Thursday, October 30, 2014

NEVER BEING ANYWHERE



“hurry sickness” – always going somewhere, never being anywhere. High-stress, high- velocity living with constant deadlines, fast-food, power naps, and speed dating makes it difficult to pause and savor the passing moments of our lives. The result is “burnout.” 

I am surprised to be subject to this modern ailment. One would surmise, given my lack of a full-time job, that I would, at least, be free of feeling constantly pressed, but such is not the case. I am always worried, always have an unfinished list of things to do. Not having a home means always moving stuff around, unless, of course, one is reasonable enough to just chuck everything.

Moving in a tangential direction …

I mentioned a post or two ago, that a dear friend from the past had resurfaced. We’ve been sending one another email, catching up. Her eloquence is refreshing. She raised two children on her own and responded to a question about whether she had had time to pursue her own interests she wrote:

It doesn't help that I'm doing it by myself; I think I had a romantic and misguided notion that all of my local friends would band together to form a ragtag family and support system, which is what did happen for a few years.

It’s the “romantic and misguided” phrase that most struck me as romantic and misguided often feel like my most noticeable qualities (faults is the word I really feel, but I am trying to be positive). Romantic, misguided, and regretful … and trying to not be too passive in the face of that failure weight. Here's where non-romanticism would help: it wouldn’t bother me so much if not for the patina of nostalgia and "what could have been."

That romance and misguidedness still obtains. I have yet to face the reality music to get rid of my cookbooks, my CDs, my vintage linens, my Parisian artifacts and all the things I have collected and love(d). There's still that fantasy that I will regain my independence, my livelihood, and my own place. You know, the Virginia Woolf trope, a room of my own ...

My long-lost friend's email was so lovely I keep reviewing it. So resonant and so interesting to see how our paths have differed yet we have some of the same issues now.


Meanwhile, I need to get back to planning my next move and then a couple of steps beyond that. The view over the lake is spectacular today with storm clouds that look like the opening of The Simpsons. The sun shines below them, illuminating the remnants of fall color on the far shore of the lake. I’m listening to my grand-niece’s radio show, although it gets too raucous from time to time and I turn down the sound. I need to be able to think and write and The White Stripes don't cut it for contemplation.


"When hurry becomes a chronic condition, when we run even when there is no reason to, when we rush while performing even the most mundane tasks, it may be said that we have become addicted to hurry. This need for speed can diminish the quality of our lives and put a negative spin on patience, discernment, depth, joy, and dialogue. What lies behind this worship of the fast life?”

Here's a Halloween treat. And a great cartoon from sunday:




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