An existence bound to an unyielding schedule that leaves no room for happenstance, reduces life to a succession of joyless tasks to be completed as quickly and as efficiently as possible. We are, each of us, advancing towards a common end – the likely termination of our self awareness; our ability to reflect upon ourselves and upon our surroundings. In that context, the journey really does count more than the destination. We should allow ourselves some time to enjoy it – both those moments that are filled with voices, and those moments of silence and apparent stillness.
I was standing in the bread aisle of a supermarket at half-past six in the morning, a few days before Christmas. It had been a good thirty hours since I had last risen from my bed. My mother, who was recovering from a knee replacement, was unspooling an incohesive monologue regarding brioche. On the surface, it was one of those occasions that you want over and done, so you can go home and crawl under the duvet. Maybe it is because I had been stunned into a state of reflection by a lack of sleep, but I remember feeling: 'This is significant; more important than it seems.'
It was nice going along for a walk in Kensal Green Cemetery... and yes, I complete agree that impatience makes us less empathic, and it goes back in some way to something I mentioned in the letters I've been sharing with Lily Dunn, that as humans we are connections, that all relationship is character, and if you hadn't stopped and chatted to that guy at the checkout, where was your character? Where was your relationship? Where was your connection? ...all these things are so vital to life.
An existence bound to an unyielding schedule that leaves no room for happenstance, reduces life to a succession of joyless tasks to be completed as quickly and as efficiently as possible. We are, each of us, advancing towards a common end – the likely termination of our self awareness; our ability to reflect upon ourselves and upon our surroundings. In that context, the journey really does count more than the destination. We should allow ourselves some time to enjoy it – both those moments that are filled with voices, and those moments of silence and apparent stillness.
I was standing in the bread aisle of a supermarket at half-past six in the morning, a few days before Christmas. It had been a good thirty hours since I had last risen from my bed. My mother, who was recovering from a knee replacement, was unspooling an incohesive monologue regarding brioche. On the surface, it was one of those occasions that you want over and done, so you can go home and crawl under the duvet. Maybe it is because I had been stunned into a state of reflection by a lack of sleep, but I remember feeling: 'This is significant; more important than it seems.'
It was nice going along for a walk in Kensal Green Cemetery... and yes, I complete agree that impatience makes us less empathic, and it goes back in some way to something I mentioned in the letters I've been sharing with Lily Dunn, that as humans we are connections, that all relationship is character, and if you hadn't stopped and chatted to that guy at the checkout, where was your character? Where was your relationship? Where was your connection? ...all these things are so vital to life.