It’s early on the weekend and a normal family is rushing about. Rushing into the shower one after another. Rushing down for breakfast. Getting the food down because ‘We need to be leaving soon!’ Hastily packing the bags and complaining about odd bits and pieces as they do. Rushing to get into the car, ‘Come on! Come on!’ Quickly pulling away and through town, ‘Looks like we beat the worst of it.’ Figuring out the fastest route, should we use Google Maps, or should we trust ourselves, ‘I’m telling you, Michael, it’s quicker this way! They start to half-argue, the kids in the backseats half-notice and wish they’d just get there. They hastily pull up at the car park. One of the little ones runs and grabs a parking ticket, ‘Quickly! I don’t want a fine!’ They grab all their stuff and fake-jog down to the beach. ‘There better be enough spots left!’ There are enough spots left, it’s the beach, after all. They grab a spot. Mark out their territory.
‘Okay stay where we can see you…Watch out for the tide…Watch out for strangers…Watch out for dogs…Careful of stones…Don’t get washed away…Keep an eye on your brother…Keep an eye on your sister…Where’s your Father?…Do you want ice cream?…Make sure you put sunscreen on…Don’t swim too far…Don’t go too far…Okay, it’s lunchtime, eat them while they’re cold, I don’t want you getting ill!…Okay, put the wrappers in the bag…Okay, but don’t go too far…Okay, but hurry back!…Where’s your father gone now?…Have you seen your mum?…That man looks weird…That dog looks weird…The sea looks rough…I’ve got a headache…Okay, an hour…Okay, 30 more minutes you two!…Okay, 10 more minutes…Okay, time to go!’
They rush back to the car. ‘Come on, keep up! There’ll be a rush!’ They get out fine, hastily driving and looking around. They arrive home subtly out of breath. The father falls asleep on the sofa. The mother starts dinner. ‘Michael, are you coming to help or what? Dinner needs to be ready for 6, we’re going out later, remember!’
~
Are you rushing about? Are you going to bed wondering where the hell the day went? Going to bed with practically no memories of the past 12-16 hours wondering who the hell carried your body for all that time? Are you rushing? Are you a little rushy rushy man or woman? Are you a little busybody? A little zoomy rusher, rushin’ about?
Rushing - or in the terms of the modern world, being practical and pragmatic and efficient and prepared or whatever - has as its (false) foundation an assumption of good things vs bad, transitory things. Sitting on the beach with a sandwich is good. Getting up, showering, eating breakfast, packing the bags, getting in the car, driving there, parking up, walking down, and setting up is all bad, or at the very least viewed as merely transitory, parts of a process that are there only as means to an end. One could easily argue, then, that in the ideal world of such logic, the perfect life would be one where someone is transported immediately between each good moment, avoiding all that fluff in between. A world where you don’t even wake up, you just appear at the breakfast table, then a quick laugh, then at lunch, then at dinner, then in front of the telly, then in bed. Bliss!
But if all you’re waiting for - and rushing toward - is the good bits of life, that is, the pleasurable, hedonic, fun fun fun times, then you’re missing out on the majority of existence. You’re forcibly abiding by a logic that the entire point of life is just to feel pleasure, however momentarily, and that anything else is just a frustrating hurdle en route to the good feelies. An alternative way to approach life, however, is by way of usurping the coldness of an old, working-class saying.
Back when I was a wee lad, the common quotation spouted by children on road trips in films, books, and TV shows was, comically, ‘Are we there yet?’ A sort of repetitive statement intended to annoy parents, which of course many real-life children then picked up and used on school trips or what have you. In response to this, many working-class parents - especially gruff, hardworking dads - would say ‘We’ll get there when we get there.’ A sort of adult counter-attack that repelled the energy of childhood with the sullen acceptance of a boring life. Much like many of these working-class quips, there’s a lot of Truth contained within.
‘We’ll get there when we get there.’ is a determinist saying that’s usually misunderstood as a simple way to shut down impatience. Yet, in Truth, it is all there is. One will arrive there (wherever that may be) when they arrive there. It is a statement regarding being present. It is the Ken Loach-esque equivalent of ‘Be Here Now.’ Because if you aren’t there, you’re here, and when you’re there, you’ll be there. The problem however is that nearly everyone - when they’re rushing about - is mentally there even though they are here.
When you rush you place as much of your existence as you possibly can - thoughts, emotions, and feelings - somewhere that doesn’t exist, namely, the future. Rushing is simply ignoring life until it suits you. This process of rushing further bolsters a presumed disdain for that which is ignored, for surely that which we rush through can’t be good or worthwhile because otherwise, well, we wouldn’t rush through it.
A life where one rushes about is one of boredom, haste, impatience, annoyance, frustration, anxiety, and even hatred. A life that presumes all that should be is that which suits you. Of course, one and all are never going to get such lives, and so, one and all are always going to be unhappy. A life of rushing is, then, a life of suffering. Rushing is suffering. To rush is to suffer.
You rush to the cinema with all your thoughts on the film. You miss the liminal foyer, the chance to try a new drink, the odd feeling of the night during the car journey there, the smile of the cute girl at the counter, the coziness of the seats, the oddity of it all.
You rush to the store to get a specific item. You miss the scenery, miss the people, miss the flowers, miss the structures, miss the weather, miss the sounds, miss the oddity of it all.
You rush to a career. You miss the friendships, miss the love, miss the care, miss the tastes, miss the smells, miss the time, miss the oddity of it all.
You rush your life. You miss existence, you miss experience, you miss love.
You’re only ever rushing towards death.