What Is This Life If, Full Of Care, We Have No Time To Stand And Stare
William Henry Davies, a Welsh poet who lived from 1871 to 1940 and spent much of his life in the USA, wrote a poem called “Leisure”. In it he asked, ‘What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.’
Though these lines were written more than half a century before but their meaning holds good even today. In this modern age we do not have even a second for our-selves. We are so busy making money and trying to improve our finances that we have no time left to enjoy the fruits of our labours. When we sometimes cross over a bridge we do not have time to look at the river below and listen to it’s sound. The river will come later we hardly even notice the bridge on which we are.
In this era, time has become the master and we are all it’s slave. We do not even have time to eat meals. Lunchtime means, some kind of fast food, taken from the freezer, thrown into the microwave owen and eaten quickly while working on the Internet.
The law of the jungle prevails; it is the survival of the fittest. To survive in this mad rat race everyone is working hard. So hard that they don’t even have time for themselves. There is cut throat competition in every walk of life, each one of us is plagued by the thought that no one else should move ahead of us. We get so bogged down with this idea that we do not notice nature and all its glorious, pristine creations. There is pressure on everyone, and under these circumstances we cannot expect to have the desire for silence, prayer or contemplation.
Now days we are gaining knowledge and wealth of money but loosing our wealth of relationship, sharing and bonding with people. Relationships are more important than functions, people more than projects, being more than doing, contemplation more than activity, time with people more than time for people.
Contemplation is a human need. We need to have time for our selves, to be quiet, to be alone, to unwind, to receive as well as to give. This problem, which is plaguing the society, is not a new one. An anonymous writer in the 19th century rural Russia wrote, ‘The trouble is that we live far from ourselves and have but little wish to get any nearer to ourselves. Indeed we are running away all the time to avoid coming face to face with our, real selves and we barter the truth for trifles.’