It's...uh....been a while.
I'd like to say I've been taking the time to do some thinking.
This would be, however, blatantly -- patently -- untrue.
Thinking? Thinking? What? What's that?
My mind is about as flabby as...well, everything else on me these days.
I feel it tremble and wobble any time I approach anything approximating heavy lifting. And it's too easy to give up. Sigh and divert myself with the superficial. The spurious.
The world is a blinking, blaring, neon-lit, cascading wonderland to the trashy and the trivial.
And I fear I'm lost in it. I've misplaced my map. I can barely hear my own thoughts anymore.
It used to be I would seek out those quiet, reflective moments.
Now I'm afraid I mistake them for boredom. I try to fill the "silence" with noise and motion.
I forget to listen. To really stop and listen. To take the time to murmur thank you.
I let impatience erode whatever opportunities I might have to take in these hushed (wondrous) moments and to savour them.
Instead, I seek distractions. I misconstrue activity for forward momentum. Stasis masquerading as movement.
I can fritter away whole hours on the internet, for example, just skipping from one thing to the next, like a dragonfly on water, lightly skimming the surface, never alighting for more than a second.
No time for depth! No time for substance!
(My attention span is not what it used to be.)
Time, time, time, time...
It's a chant. A march. A mantra.
And there's never enough of it.
