Sunday, March 15, 2015

The Slow Life Or I Just Turned Fortyfive

One of the tropes of speaking about a move from the city to the "country" is that life slows down, that you slow down. Some falsely reason that to slow down, they should aim for the country. 

What I have found is the movement of the earth. I see it in the shadows and celestial bodies.

Before I can see the rising sun, a window reflects it from nearly a half mile away.

Frenetic, self-centered city life dispenses with this perception. Time is human time, measured in seconds and minutes so numerous as to seem endless. It becomes the measurement of how long to, intervals of trains, a meeting at four, of dinner at eight. Children are unformed adults wed to their colleges before they can speak (yet only they have the perception of slowed time). Nursing facilities are horror houses, what happened to these people?  Celestial events are spectacles detached from prescience. 

No, the country hasn't slowed me down. It's only made me aware of how fast we are going.


  1. Back in the day, when I was a child, time moved so slowly. The school year went on forever, and it seemed like decades between one Christmas and the next, but mercifully, summer was long enough for dreaming and adventures. When I became an adult, I was disturbed at how quickly time sped by. Didn't we just celebrate Christmas; didn't I just graduate high school; wasn't I just forty. Yet, I never took the time to ponder the "why" until now.... reading this post is such a good way to greet the day. By the way, happy birthday.


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