Spinning spinning.
Ceaseless.
The world spins on its axis. It goes around the sun. The sun runs through the galaxy on its path. The galaxy still moves away from center. Faster than you could ever hope to conceive.
We’re built with the notion that we can, should keep moving. Success can’t be motionless. The world spins. If it stopped, everything would be over.
And so we jam every minute of every day full of something. We are less able to sit still with our own thoughts unless they’re pushed through a soft glow of a screen. The huddled masses, each a unique individual special creature of the endless taking in wave after wave of the idea that whatever you do is not good enough. Glaring bright visualizations of more than real life could ever be, if there is such a thing as real life.
And we are being pushed farther away from one another despite this magnificent technological unification. We are, ironically, at rest more than ever before. But also connected more.
And in this unification, we are easily stirred. Easily moved to great impotent passion. Yelling across the cyber void, accomplishing nothing. Connected, but now faceless. Faceless but endlessly caring about everything and nothing.
The constant movement is seen as ambitious. Needed. Those that stop are dead to us.
We race for success. So we can share our success. Receive praise for our success, be unsatisfied with our success. Keep moving. Keep the furies hot. Fast, exercise, cleanse, meditate, fuck, feast, selfie, productive, terrified.
I suggest we stop.
When did you last stop and consider moment to moment where and what you are.
And let go of everything that does not concern you.
To let go of what does not concern you would disconnect you.
But it might just make everything seem far less scary.
What if I could surrender to the stillness. Would it hurt anymore if I could just shut the fuck up? If I could just listen to the air. If I could wait without worry?
How do I seem? Do I seem okay? Do I seem angry? Happy?
Am I funny?
Am I strong?
Am I smart?
Am I successful enough?
Do I look good enough?
Why don’t I have more things?
Why don’t more people like me?
Why don’t I have what this person has?
Why am I such a piece of shit?
Why are so many people hurting?
Why can’t I change anything?
I deserve what I get.
Because I’m terrible.
I don’t want to be here but I guess this is it.
And drives movement.
Some good.
But mostly.
The movement is nothing more than a tire spinning in the mud. Messy, powerful, admirable, going nowhere.
Raging against a brick wall with your face.
Expecting to be able to shout the wall down.
Bloody fists.
Spinning Spinning.
It’s supposed to be the way forward.
But maybe.
If we could just sit still. In the quiet.
That would be the real start.
