Being busy has become a badge of honour. One we wear to show the world we’re contributing and achieving. We’re doing things. Lots of things. The day, the week, the year so far...it’s just been so busy.
It’s nothing short of an epidemic. Working late is seen as more of an achievement than producing meaningful results. Being last to leave the office is more respected than efficiently wrapping up work early to see your family. Relentless hustle that leaves you with just five hours of sleep is celebrated.
Our homes have become almost transient places. We leap out of bed to the sound of an alarm, rush down our breakfast, pack our bags, shout at each other to hurry up, and then run out the door. We return home in the evening with just enough time to eat, sleep, and get ready to do it all over again.
Fighting this epidemic is hard work. We’re so conditioned to the respect being busy brings that it’s almost embarrassing (what, are you lazy?) to say that we’re trying to slow down. But there are few things in life as important, because the busier we get the more we miss.
The hope flashing across our child’s face as they think we might stop to play instead of rushing past. The sincere and inquisitive questions that sound like nagging. The drawing they want to show us that feels like an interruption. The sweet little singing voice we can’t hear through the annoyance of the repetition.
And, ultimately, the opportunity to show our children that they’re worth our time.
Somehow we’ve built a world where being rushed off our feet, sleep-deprived and stressed is more respected than living slowly, intentionally, consciously...together.
It’s broken, frankly, and we need to slow down now while it’s not too late.
The busyness will always be there. Their childhood won’t.
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