The moment

I’m sitting and reading. I’m preparing a post about escaping capitalism. Reading philosophical texts, reviewing notes, looking for inspiration. It seems like everything is stress-free, without any pressure. I have this moment for myself and my work, the moment I’ve been waiting for since yesterday. The long-awaited moment has arrived, it’s happening here and now—I’m sitting in silence, I can read and write. It’s raining outside, I’m sitting at my desk, drinking tea, no one is home. The perfect time to delve into ideas, to contemplate, to create… and what? And nothing.

I was dreaming to have this time for myself, but my yesterday’s idea of what this moment would look like and what it is now are diametrically different. In my imagination, it was a moment I had been waiting for so long, my time for creation! A moment of ecstasy, of great emotions, an absolute moment. The desire for this silence and peace that would envelop me and guide me through the chaos of my thoughts, so that I could effectively put all my ideas on paper and do something beautiful in these two hours of free time… It’s not happening.

I am here, reading and writing, and I realize that none of the things I imagined are happening. I read and get distracted, so I have to read the same sentence several times. I write notes on a piece of paper, a little sloppily, a little incoherently. Nothing is happening. I haven’t written anything concrete yet. My thoughts are still scattered and I can’t quite grasp the thread. I’m not entirely sure what it’s going to be about. I’m not reaching my full potential, so I immediately feel guilty that now I’m finally here and WHY? Why can’t I live up to my ideal image of this moment? What am I doing? Why am I wasting time that is so precious? I have two hours to create and nothing is happening…

What do our ideas say about us? I miss the feeling of sitting down and just reading or writing without a plan, without pressure, without anything. That’s all. What is this memory about? About an activity or something else? Maybe it’s a memory of some carefree and frivolous time? When was the last time I knew how to rest? The real rest. Being 100% in the moment, completely relaxed, focused and at ease. That state when curiosity about the world awakens, creativity flows, time expands, memory is razor sharp, the world becomes more intense and more palpable. In this state, life is lived to the fullest. What I remember, what I imagine, is precisely this feeling. A feeling that used to come more easily, but today is increasingly difficult to achieve. A feeling that cannot be planned or written into the daily schedule, yet one that we strive for and desire so much. I abandon work on that post (on capitalism) to gather my thoughts…

This break, this moment of stepping away from the task and transferring my discomfort onto another piece of “paper”, without any prior plan, completely spontaneously and aimlessly, suddenly transports me into this space for a moment. When words come on their own, when thoughts stop buzzing in chaos, when I don’t need to look at my phone for distraction and to kill the discomfort, when something happens that wasn’t supposed to happen, but suddenly hatched and found an outlet in this piece…