The zen rusher

When you are rushing you are able to think of nothing other there than the act of rushing. Everything blurs into the background. Thoughts, hopes, anxieties, reflections, daydreaming. Your attention is firmly anchored to the experience of time passing and your trying to keep up with it. Hand glued to phone, I make a point of checking the time so that the street vendors can see that I am in fact very busy. Sorry, I’m in a rush. Sometimes rush can’t be avoided, although secretly I do like to rush. Today I wasn’t necessarily in the mood for it but was late for my train. I am reminded of the seductive lure of rush. Everything else is temporarily suspended, my identity slips away, I simply become; the rusher. And for a little bit, that is a relief. I am no longer thinking of the emotions, instead I strut down the street with intention, importance and hot feet throbbing in my dm’s. In the same way that a a runner might have their mind cleared during a race. Their attention glued to the concrete passing underfoot, finding a rhythmic flow. Is rushing a new kind of neoliberal meditation?? Albeit a very public one. So too, I am lodged in competitive athleticism with the clock. As I stride, everything goes blank.

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