The history of humankind is a story of scientific discovery and technological innovation. We strive to make manifest what we create in our imagination, and since our imagination travels faster than the speed of light, much of what we have achieved in technology has been in pursuit of speed. Faster cars on bigger roads speed us to our destinations. We communicate and we are informed instantly (and constantly.) Speed and efficiency has made our work more productive. With all of this innovation, one would think that we would have more time to enjoy the pleasures of life, time for family and friends, time for recreation and relaxation. It hasn’t worked out that way for most of us. Instead of being freed by the technology which brings us all things faster and faster, we have become addicted to that technology. Instead of having more time, we are pursued by time.
Yesterday I witnessed a sad example of a family pursued by time. Driving over the mountain from Helen to Hiawassee, I saw a vehicle with a Towns County license plate repeatedly crossing the center line as it “rode the bumper” of the vehicle in front of it. The lead vehicle had an out of state license tag and it was being driven by an older couple obviously in vacation mode. They were traveling the posted speed limit and judging by the camera held by the passenger, they were enjoying the fall colors. The driver of the chase car repeatedly “charged” the vehicle in front, running dangerously close to its bumper while he gestured rudely at the other driver. In the back seat of the chase car you could see the top of two small heads. The children were not enjoying the fall foliage. They were watching a video on one of those pull down screens designed to pacify passengers on those unbearably slow journeys we must often take in our world of technological wonder.
The vacationing couple eventually pulled over onto the side of the road as our modern family sped off in pursuit of their urgent needs. Many of us who have lived here long enough to collect a few fairs, festivals and fall color seasons under our belts might sympathize with the impatient family. It can be a challenge to navigate our roads in pursuit of anything when our progress is blocked at every turn by someone with more time than we have. A friend who worked in Helen had a bumper sticker which read, “I am NOT on vacation,” which unfortunately mirrors the attitude which many of us have towards the people who support what is left of our local economy.
Granted, this was a mild case of “road rage” compared to some of the incidents which frequently occur in large cities. It is sad that these incidents occur anywhere. However, in an area such as ours, where we have made a conscious choice to live here specifically because of the more relaxed lifestyle and slower pace, such an incident is almost tragic. The implication is that the gestalt of the age of instant (and again we emphasize constant ) information is now ubiquitous. It has reached into every corner of American life. There is no escape.
We sympathize with the couple trying to enjoy a relaxing drive through the mountains. We pity the family in pursuit of their urgent needs. It is not difficult to imagine the factors pressing down on the accelerator. Consider this likely scenario: Both parents work. With two children to be supported by the small selection of jobs in our area, they work more than forty hours each during the week. After work they have to pick up the kids at soccer practice or any of a number of other activities in which our children must participate in order to become what we consider to be “well rounded” and able to compete. On the way home with the kids they must “run by” the grocery store and rush home to make dinner while the kids are doing homework. On the weekend there is a game to attend and more shopping for necessities – and more driving. By Sunday the parents are wondering why we call Saturday and Sunday “the weekend.” The week, in fact, never ends, but they feel an obligation on Sunday to do “something fun,” which in our culture usually involves more driving. If that “something fun” is in any of the metropolitan areas which surround us, that activity requires at least five more hours on the road. By Sunday afternoon the parents are exhausted, but the sun is going down and they still have to cross the mountain to get home, make dinner, finish the laundry and get themselves ready for work and the kids ready for school the next day. Unfortunately for all, their way is blocked by Ted and Alice, retired, visiting from Orlando and driving 30 mph to better enjoy the fall colors.
Recently a tribe was discovered living in a remote area of the Amazon. The people of the tribe have no language for time. They have no concept of hours, minutes and seconds, much less the increasingly small units of time which dissect modern existence. They do not count days, weeks, months and years. Their names are related to their appearance, and as that appearance changes over “time,” they give away their old names and take on new ones. Their lives are not without struggle – they must gather food and build shelter. They must experience sickness and death. However, these simple people appear to be extraordinarily healthy and happy and free from much of the stress which accompanies modern life.
We often consider ourselves, by virtue of our advanced technology and sophistication, to be superior to simpler people; superior to our ancestors who lived without our modern conveniences. Science tells us, however, that though our knowledge has increased, our intelligence has not. And what of wisdom? One could make a strong argument that this elusive quality has actually diminished. What have we gained in our pursuit of speed and convenience? We work far more hours than our ancestors who hunted and gathered. The quality of our living is polluted by, not only the exhaust from our passing, but the chemicals of fight and flight coursing through our bodies under stress. We medicate ourselves and we medicate our children just to be able to cling to the fingertip ledge of mental health on the steep ascent of our progress.
There is an ancient symbol of a serpent swallowing its own tail. It is a symbol of the cyclic nature of existence, of creation out of destruction, of life growing out of death. I think it is also a fitting symbol of our relationship with time. We have embarked on a journey of pursuit: Pursuit of speed, pursuit of instant information and instantaneous gratification. We pursue time, but in doing so, we are pursued by it. It is sad that, for too many of us, we only begin to question that pursuit as we near the end of life. Only then, with less time before us than behind, do we choose to slow down and enjoy the fall foliage, and wonder why we didn’t make the choice years ago.
