Why is it that the most important things are the hardest to do?
It may appear to some that I look busy and am a go-getter, but the truth is that I am the same old me as always, and that the busyness is perhaps, simply, a facade I crafted to fool myself, and others in the process.
Why do we work so hard? What is the point of running when it is seemingly somewhat meaningless, because when we die, we all become ashes anyway, and the sun will keep rising and setting and there will always be a perfect weather in some part of the world. Sometimes, I feel that we're all in a rat race, and that we do what we're doing, burn our lives up at night finishing things before a deadline because that's what society has taught us to do, and we teach that to our peers and kids and the cycle continues in perpetuity.
But yet, at the same time we just have to keep running just to stay in the same place, as Alice of Wonderland fame observed. When nothing else changes and we all end up in the same place anyway, the journey becomes of importance. It's up to us to do what we consider of meaning, or to do nothing, or to be a mindless machine (of sorts), a tiny cog in the vast machinery that is the society we have constructed.
I've been musing that technology improves by leaps and bounds, but that that isn't what we really need. We'll soon have driverless cars becoming commonplace, the computer science craze won't die down soon, the Google world that The Circle (a dystopian novel I read some years ago) prophesied with drones and eyes everywhere may soon come true; and for some reason, I really do believe in this other series I read back in secondary school about a man named Vaughan (if I remember correctly) in a world painted as architecture - a vast concrete world covering the land, with different levels catering to different social strata and forming many interesting different spaces; and even with spaceships shuttling off to other worlds (of little importance in this discussion). The tech geeks seem to think that more "smart" software is better; it makes for an easier life; we can do the things we really want to do, have more leisure time. But what happens in leisure? Is it not simply an adaptation of historical practices - horse riding becomes a mechanical exercise; people go to the gym to be fit; others run, cycle, kayak, or engage in other forms of more... technologically advanced pleasures. We create apps and games to fill up the newly-free time, binge on social media and catch up with others remotely, and cut down on face-to-face time. It's little wonder that the counter movement for all things slow has arisen, and - correct me if I'm wrong - an increasing nostalgia for all things old as well (but of course it has to look picture-perfect). In the end, what we all need is to learn how to live our lives. I think that starts with morals, with the appreciation of the arts, and with competent pedagogical approaches. Technology is good, but it needs to be used wisely, like everything else.
I admit that I'm not perfect, and I'm still struggling to even get the basics right.
But perhaps, learning to enjoy this struggle is part of the joys of life itself.
It may appear to some that I look busy and am a go-getter, but the truth is that I am the same old me as always, and that the busyness is perhaps, simply, a facade I crafted to fool myself, and others in the process.
Why do we work so hard? What is the point of running when it is seemingly somewhat meaningless, because when we die, we all become ashes anyway, and the sun will keep rising and setting and there will always be a perfect weather in some part of the world. Sometimes, I feel that we're all in a rat race, and that we do what we're doing, burn our lives up at night finishing things before a deadline because that's what society has taught us to do, and we teach that to our peers and kids and the cycle continues in perpetuity.
But yet, at the same time we just have to keep running just to stay in the same place, as Alice of Wonderland fame observed. When nothing else changes and we all end up in the same place anyway, the journey becomes of importance. It's up to us to do what we consider of meaning, or to do nothing, or to be a mindless machine (of sorts), a tiny cog in the vast machinery that is the society we have constructed.
I've been musing that technology improves by leaps and bounds, but that that isn't what we really need. We'll soon have driverless cars becoming commonplace, the computer science craze won't die down soon, the Google world that The Circle (a dystopian novel I read some years ago) prophesied with drones and eyes everywhere may soon come true; and for some reason, I really do believe in this other series I read back in secondary school about a man named Vaughan (if I remember correctly) in a world painted as architecture - a vast concrete world covering the land, with different levels catering to different social strata and forming many interesting different spaces; and even with spaceships shuttling off to other worlds (of little importance in this discussion). The tech geeks seem to think that more "smart" software is better; it makes for an easier life; we can do the things we really want to do, have more leisure time. But what happens in leisure? Is it not simply an adaptation of historical practices - horse riding becomes a mechanical exercise; people go to the gym to be fit; others run, cycle, kayak, or engage in other forms of more... technologically advanced pleasures. We create apps and games to fill up the newly-free time, binge on social media and catch up with others remotely, and cut down on face-to-face time. It's little wonder that the counter movement for all things slow has arisen, and - correct me if I'm wrong - an increasing nostalgia for all things old as well (but of course it has to look picture-perfect). In the end, what we all need is to learn how to live our lives. I think that starts with morals, with the appreciation of the arts, and with competent pedagogical approaches. Technology is good, but it needs to be used wisely, like everything else.
I admit that I'm not perfect, and I'm still struggling to even get the basics right.
But perhaps, learning to enjoy this struggle is part of the joys of life itself.
