speed living
I was flipping through the TV stations just now and came across the John Walsh Show (why does that guy have a show anyway?). The topic of the day was "extreme dating" and for some reason I stopped...wondering what was considered "extreme" (at least it wasn't "Xtreme"). There were guys with personal ads scribbled over their cars, guys paying for billboards, some sort of telescreen meeting thingy, and, of course, "speed dating". Amongst quick overviews of each of these phenomena (and this is all of the show I watched, the opening "what this show is about" bit), Mr. Walsh talked about the way our society has become obsessed with speed...fast food, fast travel, fast access to information -- "Why not fast dating?" He asked. Well, here's my response. (oh you knew it was coming didn't you?)
Going back to biology class, we all know that cells replicate themselves every however long it is. Cells are born, cells grow, cells die. It's the way we work and everything else that's alive. It's fine and dandy. But what happens will cells grow too fast? Well, they start to replicate too and then they clump together and then you go to the doctor and get a biopsy only then to be called in for consultation a few days later, sat down, and told, "I'm sorry, but you have cancer" to be followed by weeping and crying and denial and whatnot. I say that in jest somewhat, but the point is...when cells grow too quicky, it's a bad thing.
Maybe once you're diagnosed with the cancer you might go home and decide you need some soup. You make it from scratch because, after all, is there any other way? You throw the ingredients in the pot -- some chicken, some broth, some carrots and parsley and whatever seasonings you need to bring it to its full flavor. You bring it all to a boil and then shut it off, scoop it out and eat it. What's it going to taste like? Water with a bunch of stuff in it. Why? Because you didn't let it simmer. You didn't let all the individual flavors blend together, you just threw it all together and thought it'd work itself out.
Sickened by the soup, you decide that exercise is what you need to clear your mind of the news you received at the doctor's office. You decide to go for a five-mile run. You strap on the shoes and head out the door, running as fast as you bloody well can. You run hard and you run furious and half a mile into it all you can't take it anymore, your lungs can't keep up, your leg muscles atrophied, you collapse having sprinted what you should have jogged.
The ambulance comes and picks you up, bringing you to the hospital. You're in a daze but, aside from the cancer, you are told you'll be fine. Your nephew comes to visit you as they keep you there for observation, "just to make sure" and he brings a book he'd like you to read. The Toroise and the Hare is what it is and you read it allowed, pointing to the pictures of the lazy rabbit sleeping as the tortoise slowly eclipses him time and time again. Your nephew laughs at the picture of the tortoise crossing the finish line while the rabbit races with a crazed look on his face -- sweat droplets flying in the way they always do in kids books -- having woken up to discovered he'd been beaten.
It's then that you might realize that you've been taking life too fast, that maybe things are meant to be simmered and savored, that nature intends for things to grow and happen at a certain pace and that trying to hurry it up will only lead to failure, and that slow and steady ultimately brings the most satisfying results.
In the dating world, we as a society are obsessed with sex and marriage and these ideas that we need to be loved and need to be at such and such a station at such and such a time in our lives. We want so badly for the good things in life to happen to us that we rush into things, we are bombarded with these images and ideas that if these good things aren't happening to us, that we are failures and deserve to be miserable. We make up these illusions that we are so busy that we do not have time to just let things grow at their own pace, we try to throw some sort of super-fertilizer into the mix to force things to progress at much too paid a pace. We don't just let things be and let things happen at their own pace, let things go all natural. The way it's supposed to be.
When two people go too far too quickly, too much occurs in our minds too quickly. There will always be that tingle, no matter who you're with, because there are so many things that it could be. It could be the tingle of adrenaline from the rush of the experience, it could the tingle of hormones indiuced by lust, it could be the tingle of satisfaction brought on by the feeling that you finally are not alone, it could be the tingle of pride in having someone on your arm, it could be the tingle that accompanies the return of self-respect having finally been accepted by someone, and yes, it could be the tingle of love...the problem is that all these things, and there are many more, feel the same to our feeble minds. What's one thing could easily be another but because of our anticipation for the first, we assume that that's what it is...even if it's not. We feel that we are in love, but really it's just our ego getting a fix from someone giving us attention. We feel that we're attracted to someone, but really it's just desperate loneliness.
And we fall into traps because of it. We start to not realize what we are doing, we spin out of control. Things happen without our realizing it, things become serious all too quickly. Soon we find ourselves in places where, if we were really aware of where we were, we'd deny because we know deep down that it's a bad place to be...but we feel too good.
That, perhaps, makes no sense to anyone but me, but it's something that I beleive to be self-evident. I think that there's a reason that the divorce rate in this country (and world, for that matter) is so high and that so many people are unhappy with their lives and relationships. We try to rush those things that necessarily take time to develop. Those things that we cannot rush, we dismiss and declare too difficult to even worry about -- list among those things that "aren't worth my time". It's silly. It really is, but it's the way the world is turning. I don't want any part of it myself because I'm just so damn old-fashioned myself, but that just puts me in a spot I guess, watching the world roll off into the distance.
Going back to biology class, we all know that cells replicate themselves every however long it is. Cells are born, cells grow, cells die. It's the way we work and everything else that's alive. It's fine and dandy. But what happens will cells grow too fast? Well, they start to replicate too and then they clump together and then you go to the doctor and get a biopsy only then to be called in for consultation a few days later, sat down, and told, "I'm sorry, but you have cancer" to be followed by weeping and crying and denial and whatnot. I say that in jest somewhat, but the point is...when cells grow too quicky, it's a bad thing.
Maybe once you're diagnosed with the cancer you might go home and decide you need some soup. You make it from scratch because, after all, is there any other way? You throw the ingredients in the pot -- some chicken, some broth, some carrots and parsley and whatever seasonings you need to bring it to its full flavor. You bring it all to a boil and then shut it off, scoop it out and eat it. What's it going to taste like? Water with a bunch of stuff in it. Why? Because you didn't let it simmer. You didn't let all the individual flavors blend together, you just threw it all together and thought it'd work itself out.
Sickened by the soup, you decide that exercise is what you need to clear your mind of the news you received at the doctor's office. You decide to go for a five-mile run. You strap on the shoes and head out the door, running as fast as you bloody well can. You run hard and you run furious and half a mile into it all you can't take it anymore, your lungs can't keep up, your leg muscles atrophied, you collapse having sprinted what you should have jogged.
The ambulance comes and picks you up, bringing you to the hospital. You're in a daze but, aside from the cancer, you are told you'll be fine. Your nephew comes to visit you as they keep you there for observation, "just to make sure" and he brings a book he'd like you to read. The Toroise and the Hare is what it is and you read it allowed, pointing to the pictures of the lazy rabbit sleeping as the tortoise slowly eclipses him time and time again. Your nephew laughs at the picture of the tortoise crossing the finish line while the rabbit races with a crazed look on his face -- sweat droplets flying in the way they always do in kids books -- having woken up to discovered he'd been beaten.
It's then that you might realize that you've been taking life too fast, that maybe things are meant to be simmered and savored, that nature intends for things to grow and happen at a certain pace and that trying to hurry it up will only lead to failure, and that slow and steady ultimately brings the most satisfying results.
In the dating world, we as a society are obsessed with sex and marriage and these ideas that we need to be loved and need to be at such and such a station at such and such a time in our lives. We want so badly for the good things in life to happen to us that we rush into things, we are bombarded with these images and ideas that if these good things aren't happening to us, that we are failures and deserve to be miserable. We make up these illusions that we are so busy that we do not have time to just let things grow at their own pace, we try to throw some sort of super-fertilizer into the mix to force things to progress at much too paid a pace. We don't just let things be and let things happen at their own pace, let things go all natural. The way it's supposed to be.
When two people go too far too quickly, too much occurs in our minds too quickly. There will always be that tingle, no matter who you're with, because there are so many things that it could be. It could be the tingle of adrenaline from the rush of the experience, it could the tingle of hormones indiuced by lust, it could be the tingle of satisfaction brought on by the feeling that you finally are not alone, it could be the tingle of pride in having someone on your arm, it could be the tingle that accompanies the return of self-respect having finally been accepted by someone, and yes, it could be the tingle of love...the problem is that all these things, and there are many more, feel the same to our feeble minds. What's one thing could easily be another but because of our anticipation for the first, we assume that that's what it is...even if it's not. We feel that we are in love, but really it's just our ego getting a fix from someone giving us attention. We feel that we're attracted to someone, but really it's just desperate loneliness.
And we fall into traps because of it. We start to not realize what we are doing, we spin out of control. Things happen without our realizing it, things become serious all too quickly. Soon we find ourselves in places where, if we were really aware of where we were, we'd deny because we know deep down that it's a bad place to be...but we feel too good.
That, perhaps, makes no sense to anyone but me, but it's something that I beleive to be self-evident. I think that there's a reason that the divorce rate in this country (and world, for that matter) is so high and that so many people are unhappy with their lives and relationships. We try to rush those things that necessarily take time to develop. Those things that we cannot rush, we dismiss and declare too difficult to even worry about -- list among those things that "aren't worth my time". It's silly. It really is, but it's the way the world is turning. I don't want any part of it myself because I'm just so damn old-fashioned myself, but that just puts me in a spot I guess, watching the world roll off into the distance.
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