Not disposable but …

There are beautiful things on this earth, something quite fascinating about our existence and magic in the way we are able to feel. There are equally terrible things.

Now, gone 22:00, finding my way home on the hollow streets of the City I feel that sewage rats have a better destiny than mine. I am jealous of certain pets and only wish for Wasabi to be opened on my way, but just in case I crack open my reserve cereal bar.

The sound of my own heartbeat is probably the most melodic song. In moments of great stress or serenity, I like to listen to this sound that assures me I am alive and that I have a purpose. Everything about those few minutes I allocate to me in my daily routine is life reaffirming.

Lately, the sound of my heart is like a soundtrack that I need to hear to survive. Every day I need some sort of reaffirmation of my purpose.

Over the years I have learnt that a pause to prepare or debrief or to rethink is always more valuable and efficient than continuing. Lately, there are not enough hours in a day to pause or breath or eat for that matter. Multitasking is a lifestyle, not something one must sometimes do.

The series of midnight emails I receive, respond to and send are proof that our work culture promotes unhealthy lifestyles. We are all trapped in a machine that churns us.