Why are we always in a hurry?
You run red lights. You push through bodies to get through the thick city crowd. Feet barely touching the pavement when walking, everything is reduced to a blur. You fast forward through songs; sip your coffee even when it’s a few degrees shy of boiling hot – searing your unsuspecting tongue.
You speak words as if one is chasing after the next. You tap your fingers on the table, impatient. You look spastic, checking your watch 30 times a minute – like that would somewhat speed up things. Perhaps a mild epilepsy?
What is it about life that makes us want to constantly reach for that fast forward button? We all have this recessive nomadic gene, urging us to flutter from one whereabout to another – never able to sit calm and still.
Maybe we feel like there’s never enough time so we move with haste. We want to do so many things, we spread ourselves thin over the minutes we’re handed in a day. I was just thinking that if people lived like this every single day, they’d probably go mental. It’s like a taking a bullet train to Cookoo Land. If you’re running late, fine – maybe frantic behavior is acceptable. But think about how liberating it must be to just sit down and take your time.
Coffee, among other fine things in life, is best enjoyed that way.