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The Slowing Down of the Blur

What does it tell us about us, I read somewhere, that when the only things we can buy are the things we really need, the economy begins to crumble?

What does it tell us about us when voice after voice points to the freeing of earth, air, water, even birds from the burden of our milling stampede?

What does it tell us about us that secretly, many – and I am on the forefront here – wish that if it were possible to earn a living and continue the life we now have, it would just be lovely, no?

What does it tell us that ever since we got off the roller coaster, we can see things in sharper relief, that colors are a solid thing, not mere blurs transiting through our lives without any explanation?

The rush of adrenaline has subsided. The frantic tug to launch every morning into the get ready-travel-work-return beaten routine has been parked elsewhere. I am home not like I used to be, enervated, at the end of the day or, adrift, during weekends. I am home.

Can this last? Perhaps not. But can I stay hitched to bigger bits of this, turning to increasing solitude and frugality, calm stability rather than breathless cannoning with life-long processions of events, a quiet life insulated from the din of living?

This will be my project for the rest of my life. I have come to rest on a new rock in a place I didn’t imagine.

Why would I try to chase down a train again?

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