On Timing
Bean soup and a D.O.P.E. Alert from my tea.
I feel that human interaction is conforming to the algorithm at an alarming pace.
We are now inchoate binary code with beating hearts.
Our sensory precision is weakening.
Our powers of reason and perceiving nuance have devolved into impatient absolutism.
We are highly reactive, prone to rage, hostages to the amygdala.
We can’t comprehend gray nor grace.
We are operating in an endless stream of unfinished thoughts, questionable (at-best) contexts, stutter steps of emotional outburst, and when all else fails: vibes.
Our eyes consume everything in sight and yet we are ravenous.
Sensory overload meets sensory deprivation. Holding electricity but losing sensation of the electric.
And so again I say: We will lose language for our emotions if we don’t stop trying to conform to the algorithm’s pace.
That brings me to pace. Pacing. Timing. Time.
Yes! Time!
Everything exists in its own time. (Carlo Rovelli)
If we demanded that the oak grow at the speed of the sunflower it would be inherently violent. It would ignore that the oak’s timing is perfect. It is precise. It is tailored to the oak. It belongs to the oak!
When the oak grows in her season every life she supports, flourishes! The oaks’ cooling shade, their nourishing acorns—that they know to withhold or multiply to right the balance—are all a gift that they freely give. (Robin Wall Kimmerer)
That is their design. And her thriving brings about the thriving of the surrounding biosphere.
Sunflowers seem to take over a landscape at lightning speed, and can grow beyond 10-ft depending on the variety. But just as quickly as they arrive, they vanish.
As beautiful as sunflowers are, if the oak’s lifespan only lasted a single summer, the rest of the ecosystem would be devastated.
There is intention built in our blooming. Do not deny nor reject your timing because of whatever or whomever is rushing—or slowing—you.