2024-09-11
Fetching my falafel wrap for lunch from the people at Petticoat Lane Market (Eye Falafel) I was there early to avoid the queue (massive after about 12:10) and there was really about nobody there. I was told by the lady, now I can say good morning to you!, and asked if I wanted the usual, exchanging a tenner for a fiver in change; then, I went up to get the usual (large with extra gurkhin and no tahini) and was given in that time two taster falafels (normally it is one). As I heard the 'here, take another', and, managing my bottle of Purdeys apple juice and the man fetching the wrap to hand to me at the same time, he (the one passing me the wrap itself) put up his hand, and told me in a mellifluous, gently masculine voice (that of a father consoling his child): take your time.
I was rushing.
I had left at 11:45 to get to the place in time, sped through Tescos in less than a minute to get the apple juice, and had rushed to the falafel place in record time (hence the emptiness). The lack of a queue meant I didn't get a chance to slow down. As I walked away, falafel, falafel wrap, and apple juice in hand, them waving me away and telling me thank you (beaming service given my singularity) I, head aloft, smile across my face, worry in my mind, though: my, what a wonderful day!
After sitting and eating and reflecting I now write this. Really, the thing I am having difficulty with is that I am becoming rushed. I floated, as I choked down the wrap (almost literally choking on the first bite and reinforcing the kindly words) the idea of moderato: a good song is moderato, not bouncing perpetually between forte and lento. And that it is a matter of degree, not of absolutes; the evil is in the degree. Is it London that pushes me to a forte life? Or is it a matter of my wants and desires? Will it kill me young?
(I'm going to walk back now, and continue at my desk.)
At my desk. I didn't think of much, save for a judgemental comment on a girl taking photos of herself in an Instagram pose sort of way; she had to retake the shot at least three times I saw, and I thought: isn't it strange how girls who are not even remotely attractive are still so concerned with these vanity shots? Maybe I had a point, but it's also motes and logs.
I've arguably gotten myself in a tricky way, as I've a lot of words to write on a sheer lack of ideas in this case. Well, it doesn't matter.
I think I cause the forte (I'm using these music terms wrong, by the way) by my own desires. I desired to not have to queue, so I undertook a chain of actions for that purpose, one of which was to walk quickly. I can't tug the body to speed as it walks and immediately slow down as I talk to the staff, so a necessary (inadvertent) byproduct was my being in a rush, noticeably so. Or maybe I am misinterpreting what he meant: in human interaction so much is subtle and lossy, it's hard to know.
It's not just a matter of knowing as well but of implementing. So for instance, I must do things designed to take my mind away from this fast mindset, to slow myself. It will benefit me over time, too. Likewise, stress is caused by often my having been too slow in doing something that then needs to be done. I must take it all seriously for work and get things done; also, I must note that there is a time to relax and that I should not get so worked up even when there is supposed motive for it. I should try remain calm, but genuinely.
The advice distils down into that! I'm very far from the good path if that is the sort of advice I need. Still, no judgement. It's a matter of improving by grades, and not fixing everything all at once.
I think (it's barely been a week) that my Friday night movie this week as well will really help. It is just a bit of time to decompress. Omoide no Marnie was lovely to watch, and I can't help but feel that a decent chunk of the enjoyment I get from films like that is not due to the film itself (certainly, an element is) but is rather as I see a void within myself reflected in the film, and so can introspect in that way. It almost seems to offer me an existent nothingness: the difference between sheer void, and the presence of absence, if that makes any sense. If asked to articulate what exactly it is it gives me, I couldn't answer. Not well, at least.
So, I'll continue that. Gym on Saturday and tonight as well: I'll do legs as I've hurt my forearms/wrists from Monday (not sure exactly what). And as for slowing down, I think I've benefitted from the last two days not tracking, but rather just diarising. That was I suppose a concrete benefit of Omoide no Marnie. It actually takes a degree of restraint not to ramble on about all and sundry, but rather to actually condense down the day into fairly few words. As for longer form writing, I think I may need to either stop it, to an extent, as has, by way of my not having a viable notepad for the purpose to hand, happened these past two days, or, begin again. Well, those are the two options, aren't they? I think it can replace the tracker altogether. If I need to know something, I can consult the diary. A singular day is likely unimportant anyways: I really need to try and find things that apply to the macro scale, not on the scale of mere days. I'm losing the monthly tracking that means, and returning to a fairly untracked system.
I don't know. I'm bouncing through ideas and systems at the moment and not settling on any. I'm not sure of the advice that a firm system is better than none: in a way, I am probably a bit jumpy and can't commit to one system for ever; I enjoy changing about and trying new things to see what is good. Does it not mean that nothing is good for me? Maybe.
But I'm still going and still getting things done, which is all I really need, if I'm totally honest. But as for slowing down, though I'm certainly trying to in an abstract sense, perhaps I've lost the concrete sense... I need to actually, physically, and in the cadence of my words and the pace of my steps, slow down. Take my time. There's a pithiness to that phrase: it's *my* time. I don't need to surrender it to anything; currently, I surrender it to my desires. I can take it for myself: I can take my time.
With that, have a good one.