Means you don’t have time to think,
But you do feel important,
and sometimes stressed,
which sometimes tips into self-righeous.
Being busy means you achieve a lot,
which makes your ego feel good,
which means you don’t have to think about if you are happy, or living in line with your values.
is an addiction,
to avoid the things which hurt us,
which scare us,
which we wish we hadn’t said or done or been.
Being busy gets us approval,
if we are lucky.
Or heart attacks and breakdowns if we are not.
Being busy is the opium of the masses,
it keeps us consuming, complying,
keeps us swallowing down the vague whisper that there must be more to life than this.
Being busy means we see a lot of our colleagues,
but less of our children,
Being busy means we can think fast, move fast,
but leave our soul out in the cold.
I am often too busy.
Lockdown stopped the busy- ness and the trees slowed me down to their breathe.
But then term started and we all sped up,
busy, busy, rush, rush, rush.
Back from our first day at school, tea, car, football, car, rush, rush,
garden, bonfire, slowing down.
A call from the house; ‘Mum, there’s a kitten in the house’.
This, a house on 2 busy roads, with a river at the bottom, and 2 dogs in our house and the next 3 houses up the road.
6 weeks old, the vet later said.
Tame, scared, hiding in the aloe vera.
We couldn’t keep it, not with the dogs and an allergy.
And we are too busy.
But the cat thought differently.
No one claimed it.
I fell in love.
The kids fell in love.
The dogs didn’t eat it.
It’s been here since the start of term.
It is a magical cat.
It appeared from nowhere.
At a time when we were speeding up.
It’s gift is to slow me down.
Life moves in mysterious ways.
I sit with it.
It reminds me of what is important.
It enchants me into sharing it’s time.
I slow down.
I don’t read,
I just hold it.
That is enough.