There was a time when Life wasn’t “hurry up!”
But I can’t remember when.
Generational hurrying…..that is what it is.
You push forward, and hurry. Are you running away from, getting away from something so painful you don’t want to give it time to catch you? So you keep hurrying forward, and it is generational, and you have been doing it for so long, you don’t even know why anymore, and you’ve done it for so long, that you find it hard not to………hurry up.
I know why she hurried. I know why she didn’t want to get caught; why she ran from the memories and the sorrows. They would be overwhelming, and overcoming, and heart wrenching and heartbreaking, so she kept hurrying and kept going, and didn’t look back unless she had to. And the tears and the anger they always came when she did, so she just kept moving, and busy, and hurried, and drug us along behind, until we had been trained to catch up with her, and even surpass her. And that same urgency was ingrained in us.
I do it still.
And I don’t even know why.
When I think of “the back then”, the “behind me”, I cry too, but not so much from the sorrow, but from the hurry that blurred my vision, and robbed me of………….more than I can list.
“Time waits for no man.” So we hurry…….
Because of this hurrying, I do not have the capacity to see so many things; I’m blind. I don’t have the capacity to hear so many things; I’m deaf. I don’t even feel so much because the senses are dulled from the speed that has propelled me forward for so long, that I can’t stop. Stopping, it actually feels so wrong I can worry myself sick with the idea of doing it.
I have so much to stop for though, to relish, to steep in, but that urge inside of me, that constant inner push is there, and I can’t make it…..STOP!! It’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel guilty when I sit down and read in the middle of the day, or just sit outside and admire the color green, and the sounds of the birds, and the warmth. That inner churning deep down in my belly that
WON’T. LET. ME. STOP.
If I put my feet down to slow down this ride, I’m sure they would wear right off. Then I’d be footless, which would only complicate my ability to keep moving and hurrying. It’s awful.
The rest of the world is doing it too, and to have friends, you sort of have to do it ...hurry and keep up. In so many ways, we are all hurrying and trying to keep up.
I don’t know if it is because of my time in life, or what, but I am tired of hurrying, and I grow wearier of it every day. The guilt that comes with sitting will just have to burn in my belly and my brain until it burns a hole, or goes away, cause I am finding I simply haven’t got the physical ability to hurry anymore, even though my mind is still miles and miles, if not years ahead.
My sister said she wants a brain transplant to enable us to stop….so many of those things that we are hurrying to get done, or get to. We both chuckle, because at our age, we sort of know what that might entail, and yeah, well no. But we agree, it would be good if there were a switch.
So maybe the beginning is being aware of the hurry; the rush, maybe that is where it begins to stop.