I asked myself this question during the drive to work today.
No, I didn’t mean lost as in geographically, I mean spiritually and mentally.
No, I didn’t mean lost as in geographically, I mean spiritually and mentally.
I was thinking about how our ancestors lived. Their lives seemed more structured than
ours. They rose at a certain time, ate
breakfast – probably the same thing every day, and left for their work – a factory
maybe, or clerking in a bank or solicitors, or on a ship, or in a warehouse, or
a shop.
They would work their long day with only a little break for
something to eat, and take they pay home in a small brown envelope at the end
of the week. The money would be divided
up into tins – rent, food, whatever.
Once home, they would prepare a meal, discuss something – local politics,
the church, school, work. They would
read a book, or sew. They would go to
bed early.
Their lives had a structure to them, and were not
complicated. It seems they knew their
purpose in life. They knew the career
they were going to follow because their fathers and mothers followed that
path. They would apprentice and learn a
skill, and they would employ that skill.
If they needed to know something outside of their close
circle of experience they would go to a library to research it, and questions
would be asked – “why are you interested in that? To what purpose?” To seek more knowledge than was necessary in
your day-to-day was considered a waste of time, because your time was so
structured. Your life had a clearly
defined purpose. It was what your
parents did, and their parents, and those before.
Today I see us as being disparate, scattered and lost. We no longer seem to have structure or
purpose. I get up at different times of
the day, depending on what hours I’m working, or where I will be working from
today. I can eat a different breakfast
every day for a week or a month, and never repeat the same meal twice.
I travel to work (or work from home), but can
take time off if I feel like it. I can
stay home sick without fear of losing my job.
I can watch TV – hundreds of different channels. I do not have tins to keep my money in. My money is invisible – digital. Bills paid electronically. I no longer need to save for something – I can
just buy whatever I want because my invisible money is no longer constrained by
what I earn.
I no longer need a reason to find out something new. I don’t need to go to the library. I have a small device in my pocket that can
tell me anything I want to know. I can
book a flight to almost anywhere in the world, travel there, find my way to a
location via GPS or SatNav and communicate with people that do not speak my
language using my smartphone.
I no longer need my mother or grandmother to teach me to
cook or sew or iron – because YouTube can show me. I no longer need to apprentice to learn a
skill. Higher education – which was once
the domain of the wealthy or titled, is now open to all – and a degree, once
the epitome of excellence, is now the norm.
We have expanded out of that tiny close-knit world of our
ancestors so far, we no longer bear any resemblance to it. Their values, ethics and morals have been
stretched thin in our rapid expansion.
We do not respect our elders because they have nothing to teach us or
give us – we no longer need their advice when Google has all the answers.
I think we have lost our way, and I am
greatly saddened by it. I have taught my
daughter to cook and sew (as my mother taught me), and I talk to her of the old
ways, of the values we shun in favour of mass-produced homogeny. The ethics we’ve
lost in an age of do-what-you-will, and the friendship-bonds stretched thin by
Facebook and Instagram, because it takes no effort to poke or click like or
share.
We are too thin – we lack any real depth. We have become selfish in our desire for
everything now!
Our pursuit of bigger, better, faster and newer now crowds out our desire for sympathy, empathy and understanding of others. I pass people in the street and say hello and I smile. I hold the door open for strangers. I pick up fallen toys for children. I talk to people’s dogs. I clean up litter from my neighbour’s front lawn. I offer to help complete strangers with their heavy bags.
Our pursuit of bigger, better, faster and newer now crowds out our desire for sympathy, empathy and understanding of others. I pass people in the street and say hello and I smile. I hold the door open for strangers. I pick up fallen toys for children. I talk to people’s dogs. I clean up litter from my neighbour’s front lawn. I offer to help complete strangers with their heavy bags.
I am trying to pull myself
back in – I am trying to remember where I was before I became lost – and my
smartphone can’t help me with that one!
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