Why are you so busy?

IMG_6937View To a ThrillBusyness seems to be the new chosen cult of many. It has become the benchmark for being a valuable citizen in our functional and purposeful culture.
The person, who hasn’t got time, is the significant one! The grey gentlemen of busyness are creaping through our thought patterns without us noticing.

It takes a strong will to follow your own rhythm in such an environment, to stay true to the beat of the individual heart.

But what else did the grey gentlemen of busyness take along apart from the time, which seems to lack in every area of our lives?
The soul, it only can exist in the timefree zone and because of this it has been exiled. Like the Dalai Lama, who isn’t allowed to reign his own country anymore, since compassion is a threat to the regime.

When I this year took part in a singing workshop with Ida Kelarova, she taught us traditional gipsy songs, I was moved by a story she told us. It was about her grief she had to go through after losing her dad and after a couple of months she in her desperation visited the doctor. He didn’t really get her and prescribed antidepressants to help her. She was shocked, since gipsies still value their feelings and espressing them is seen as very important. In our culture even grief has to be dealt with quick, better still if it doesn’t take place at all. Being busy means being strong!

Many people don’t realize how in our time of appearant, individual freedom, we are mainly reigned by constricting norms, induced by commercials. We are supposed to function like machines, keep things going smoothly. When we want to break out, the demons come.
They tell you, that you’re not good enough and that you won’t belong if you don’t join in. And do you want this? Do you really want this?

Who am I still, when I’m not busy? What’s left? Am I still worthy, when I am not running around agitated like all the others, when I can’t justify my actions logically?

It isn’t surprising that both children and artists are in for it. What’s their right to exist, since they only play? It doesn’t make any sense and doesn’t serve any purpose.
The artist is supposed to sell his piece of work, which doesn’t make any sense. But how should he sell his work, when the selling module is about the functionality of the product? Should he claim: „Here, I give you part of your soul back?“ Because that is, what he is doing. Art connects us with our soul. Out of the mind, back into the heart. That’s what it always has been here for!

What does art degenerate into, having to justify itself all the time? When it doesn’t have a right to be? When art tries to gain a logical purpose, it get’s meaningless. As games get lame, when they have to hit a target. Both joy without purpose and meaningful absurdity have become the enemies of our solely materialistic society, trying to make as much profit as possible.

Really, the question is, when do we turn back! Or do we keep on running blindly, because we are too stressed, to confront ourselves with just this question? Are we too busy to be a well functioning machine, paying its tribute to a demanding society, which doesn’t have any time anymore to recognize that we are marching incessantly towards the abyss.

Hasn’t the time come to oppose our so-called society, including its stifling norms. To shout out loud: „Stop!“

Artists never should be forced to justify their piece of work, to give it some purpose and children should be encourgaged to play senseless games again, where seamingly nobody can learn anything.

I don’t want to justify my stories, my body of work. They are what they are. Without purpose and meaningfully senseless. They return the magic, the magic of life, which doesn’t care about purpose and sense, but is alive and unpredictable.

Are you still busy or are you already living! That’s the only question, which counts. We can and have to take all the time we need, to answer it truthfully!

Please leave a comment and share with others!

MerkenMerken

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Magic happens when you face the shit!

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Edward Chapman
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That made me stop and think – thank you.