Don’t Miss the Movers

On a hot August day when all major cities not located on a beach are devoid of their citizens and filled with the proverbial tourist wave, I did something not many of us do: I froze time. I sat down at my usual coffee-shop stop, ordered a cortado and a fresh water with a lemon slice for that extra taste, and contemplated my surroundings. My surroundings had not slowed down—in fact, they were just as fast-paced as ever. And while the scenery became a bit more colorful, with definitely more cheerful and louder foreigners, it kept its essence: the never-ending rush and competition against time.

How can it be that in any major city, life is always pulsating against the clock? Is this the metropolitan curse? Are we always in a rush, always racing, and always late? And more importantly—what are we so late for?

What a captivating thought. We race to the end of our lunch breaks, the end of our coffees, the end of our days, the end of the week, the end of a rough patch… but are we racing to the end of our lives? What will it take for us to just stop? Are we constantly feeling the pressure of time? It’s like we are in fear of missing something crucially important—such as the mover’s truck in a new, empty home. Or the dry-cleaners, when our outfit of the night is being held captive at the end of a late afternoon.

What are we in such a rush for? Are we afraid we’re going to miss out on life? I can’t help but ask myself: are we not, instead of catching up with life, missing the very existential pleasure of actually living? While our feeds, personalized ads, and bathroom shelves are all equally filled with the latest in rejuvenation and age-reversing products and procedures—and while we pop NAD+ pills like bonbons, hoping that science will finally deliver on its promise to make us live forever (and not look like we’ve lived a day over 25)—are we not losing substantially in the enjoying-life department?

Most of our thought process is directed at keeping our wallets safe and our outfits impeccable. It’s curious why none of it goes toward the improvement of our way of life, when all our resources are allegedly pulled toward that very goal. It’s an undebatable fact that we cannot win in this battle against time. And, as the world-famous saying goes, it is the journey that counts. Are we forgetting to just sit down and enjoy ourselves? Or, as my grandmother says, “It is what it is—we might as well just be happy with this other day that God has given us.” It is a great gift, to be on this planet and in good health.

Despite all our efforts to care for our physical health—and our growing grasp of mental well-being through mindfulness, grounding practices, and heightened awareness of psychological challenges—we still lack that childlike ability to laugh uncontrollably, observe without judgment, and revel in joy without measure.