As the wealth of the First World increases our time seems to evaporate into a hamster wheel of busyness. When we are not busy surviving we busy ourselves with information, entertainment, poorly written blogs that are the equivalent of a porch sitting, rocking chair riding dude yelling out “Blah, Blah, Blah” into a loud hailer.
We have the gadgets but have lost some of the art of living. We rush to the next booking, product, place, screen and expectation, only to find that our bodies are constantly trying to catch up with our thoughts and stresses. We feel a nagging sense of falling short and under achievement. If only we could do one more thing before the earth turns, or hold onto time with a little more confidence. Or just ponder on one thought for a moment and stay there, content.
For those attempting to strangle back a sense of calm and purpose the oversized curved 3D screens are shut down and wall space is regained. Knitting is learnt and brushes are held. To take it further, suits of armour are belted into shape in the garage and looms without fluorescent elastic are engaged.
Maybe just maybe, those strange folk who participate in medieval societies and the like are really the trailblazers of our generation. They are first to realise the error, the madness. They are the ones who hold onto time a little longer.