By Various from the 8
One of the biggest challenges most of us have had to face during this pandemic is staying at home, staying unproductive, staying away from the bustle. Just staying.
Time is fleeting - when we give it structure. Just like life. We have gotten increasingly used to living in a hustle culture that demands maximum input and maximum output. We have been wired to be productive, like a well-oiled machine.
Stillness is our enemy. Nothingness is an abyss. Nothing cannot exist. And if we are doing nothing, we are nothing.
We need to work. We need to make money. We need to pay our bills. We need to get by.
We also need to reach our daily goals, weekly goals, monthly goals, yearly resolutions. Be the best under 20. Best under 25. Best under 30. Best under 40. We have to be the best worker. Best artist. Best chef.
We need to travel the world. We need to experience everything. We need to connect with everyone.
We ought to have more likes, more followers, more shares, more views, more impressions, more reach.
The race never stops. Not till we die. We have to be better than the rest. We have to be better than our peers. We need to be more validated.
We need to be good. We cannot be murderous. We cannot be suicidal. We cannot be angry. We cannot be sad. We need to be happy. We need stay positive. We need to push.
We need to express more, care more, work more, do more, be more.
We need to be it all. We need to have it all. We need to know it all. Ignorance is bad. Ignorance is fear. We need to know it all.
So we push ourselves for the zenith. Got to reach the beyond. Do what no one else has ever done. Or consume it all. Consume everything until every micro second of our lives is filled.
No emptiness. No silence. No stillness.
We got to flow with the noise and the noise is got to flow through us.
We need to seize the day.
We need to manage the day.
We need to get through the day.
We need to not weep through the day.
We need to not repeat this day.
We wake up and tell ourselves today is going to be our day. Yes, today. Today is the day we get our lives figured out. The way to do it? Slave it to the clock. Time is our master.
But what is time? We haven't got the time to think.
We have no time to philosophize. Can't ask questions.
Why life? Why us? How us? Must be god. Must be evolution. Don't think too much. Too much is not good. Too much is excess.
Excess becomes an abscess.
Must cut it off before it grows. Must drown philosophy with droning tasks.
Why? Why not?
Philosophy is for the idle mind. The devil's playground. Thinking is for the dead, for another generation. Thinking is for the ever living in gardens of the beyond. Thinking is for the rich. Thinking is not for us. Thinkers think. Doers do.
We are the doers. We must do. We must do first to think later.
But we haven't done enough. We have wasted our time thinking about not thinking.
We must focus our time in being productive. Productive through work. Productive through workout. Productive through hangouts. Productive through romance. Productive through consumption. Productive through prayers.
Prayers, yes. Prayers for all those dying in wars. Prayers for all the poor. All the refugees. The very bottom rung of society.
What is this whisper? We secretly wish to be them. Oh, only if we did not think so much! Only if we were downtrodden. Our lives are so privileged. Our lives are so good! We mustn't beat ourselves over our petty and insignificant things. We mustn't philosophize. We mustn't dramatize.
We must live for them. We ought to become rich so that we can give our wealth off to the needy. We ought to do it for the helpless.
We ought to make the money, fill our bank accounts, either earthly or for the ticket to heaven. We got to earn. There is no meaning to life if we do not earn something. There is no meaning to life if we do not give back.
Purpose has no definition if we aren't rewarded for our efforts at the end. The rewards need to be tangible. We ought to win them. It has to be praise. It has to be accolades. It has to be something. It cannot be nothing.
We want to be everything and everyone, nothing and no one, all at once.
We tell ourselves we could be plenty, we beat ourselves saying we are none.
We incentivize the smallest things. We make a meal out of reflexes. We ought to stay in control. Can't let the subconscious mind be. It cannot take over. It cannot speak. It cannot breathe.
Nothing is random. Everything is connected. There is order. Shoo stress! Shoo conflict! Shoo crisis! Not us. We are not weak. We are not vulnerable. We are conscious. We are in control.
We are, aren't we? Oh no, the doubts are creeping. We are slipping. Slap! Wake up!
Focus!
We ought to be conscious. Conscious of our every act. Conscious of our every move. Conscious of our every thought. We can't afford to slip up. Everybody's watching. Everybody's listening. Everybody's breathing down our neck.
And if no one is around, it's God, or Google. We are never truly alone. Unless it's time to sleep. But in that sweet limbo we hear a voice, and then more voices that quickly drown the crickets and the countless critters that chirp in the night. The thoughts cascade. Memories. Regrets. Anxieties. Anticipation.
Can't sleep. Can't bear. Fidgeting. Tired. What to do? Pop a sleeping pill. Done. It's working...almost. Pop another. Maybe mindlessly scroll through social media. React to a cocktail of emotions, expressions, exasperation. Done. Done. Done. But there's more. Time doesn't make sense anymore.
It's past the witching hour. We could have read a book instead. But we don't have the time to read a book. We don't have patience. Too much anxiety. Reading is calming. Reading is still. Reading is quiet. And in the quiet the thoughts are loudest. The thoughts are nagging:
Must pay the bills. Must put our lives together. Must steer away from untangling other people's lives. Must be selfish. Must be guarded. Must be robust. Must follow the schedule. Must be healthy. Must clear pending projects. Must meet deadlines. Must clean the house. Must. We must.
Or die. Just die. Why don't we just die?
But no. If we die, everyone else around us is going to be heartbroken. Their lives will be profoundly affected by our death. They will be traumatized. Suicide or not, dying has a cost. An emotional cost. Cannot charge a price that high.
And what about our dreams? The ones we dream in our waking? How will we fulfil those dreams? We will regret not achieving those dreams. Must reach those dreams or else we will curse ourselves in our last moments of life. We will have no legacy to leave behind. Nothing to be remembered by. But these dreams are whispers. Spectres that float, dying every day we don't do our best.
We must continue living! For everyone else. For our dreams! For legacy beyond death.
Time to sleep or snooze. Need a slumber. Groan! Why can't we just fall unconscious? Can someone give us a sedative? Sleep for 3 days? That should do the trick. That should restart our brains and our body. That's got to do it!
But we don't have the time for that. We've got to wake up. We've got to clean, pee, shit, eat, work, commute, do the chores, make the dough, love everyone, fight everything, take care of families, take care of pets, reach those dreams. Today is the day. We will tire ourselves enough to just fall asleep.
But we have put so much effort today, haven't we? We deserve a break. We deserve some time alone. In the dark. In the quiet. To fill it up with noise. To fill it up with light. To fill it up with silent chatter on our screens. Yes, we deserve to do nothing. We deserve to absorb everything.
But this can't go on forever. Must shut it off. We must compartmentalize. Must control. Must be more disciplined. Must return to optimum productivity. Optimum joy. Like when we were children.
Must return to that confidence. That carefree life. We could make mistakes. Yes. We won't have consequences. No one will shout at us.
But wait. What is it, brain? You're saying we were disciplined? You're saying we were bullied? You're saying we were scolded? You're saying we were punished? You're saying we wanted to grow up? Be adults? Do whatever we want to do?
We are grown up now. But are we adults? Not yet. Maybe we will feel like adults when we have a white collar job. Maybe we will feel like adults when we have a house. When we have a car. When we have children. When we have more responsibilities.
Yes.
We will then be free to do whatever we want to do. We can tell the young how to do it. How to figure life out. How to avoid the mistakes we made. Show them shortcuts. Show them the way. We will be guides. We will not be our parents. We will overcome our lifelong traumas. We will be better. We will be happy. We will be content.
Yes. Must hop to the next invisible line, and to the next, and the next. Closer to success. Closer to stability. Closer to stability. Just one more.
We will get through this. Through a sip. Through a snort. Through a puff. Through a drag. Through a wank. Through a shag. Through a binge. Through a prayer. One at a time. One more at this time. The last one for this. Until we reach. Just till we reach.
Boom! We can check that all off soon. Move onto the party time in our pajamas, or prepare for a grand time in heaven. Onto the next milestone!
But we aren't feeling anything. We are also feeling a lot. This is too much. We can't stand it. But we can't show it to anyone. They will judge. They will boo. They will scold. We will lose.
We must keep the mask on, yes. Must be an adult. Must be responsible. Must sound mature. Must keep pretending. One day the pretense will end. One day we will be free. One day we will be old and wrinkly. Then no one will say anything. We can enjoy the beaches. We can enjoy the vacations. We can enjoy sitting around and doing nothing. We deserve it. For a lifetime of sacrifice.
We deserve to enjoy our riches. Our hard earned blood money.
OK boomer. We hear the words. The youth are saying we had it better. We had the better days.
We had easier jobs. We had cars. We had a grand old time.
We had the war. We had no internet. We had no smartphones. We had nothing at all.
They will know. We will know. They are us. We are them. Age is a number. We never grow up.
We will grow old if the virus or the climate or the economy doesn't take us all to the naught. We will remember the times. The grand old time when the world shut down. When we sat in our homes and scrolled endlessly into the most colourful oblivion. We shared the memes. We slept a lot. We forgot what is time.
Or we finally asked what is time?
