Today has been one of those days when I haven’t had opportunity to stop, to reflect and pay attention. Correction: I have not created the opportunity to stop, to reflect, to pay attention. I am not sure why it is so easy to allow the days to slip past, to skim the surface of life.
I stop what I am doing. I switch off the television. I lie back on the bed and concentrate for a moment on the grains in the wood panelling by the bedside. Yet even this is fake, a veneer rather than true wood, made to mock the appearance of reality. It is all veneer: everything we rely on is a lie, a fiction, a story we spin until we can spin no more. Here, in this moment, I see everything for what it is: the bedding made to feel like cotton; the pillow stuffed with artificial fibres; the fake woodchip on the wall; the plastic television set; the air conditioning unit blowing fake air. I see its falsehood, the illusion of something real.
Or is it just me? Alone and away from home, feeling vulnerable and tired and emotional. Perhaps I am the one who fails to see the reality, the truth of what things are and not what I expect them to be?