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Neil Hudson: Call this progress?
Can you feel it? Bubbling just beneath the surface. That nagging feeling of discontent, of disappointment. The feeling that things aren't quite right with life. That somehow amid all the oil rigs and politics and gameshows there ought to be more to it. That there is, ultimately, a lack of meaning.
That beyond the Friday night takeaways and two weeks off in August and the general hedonism in which we all partake for most of the time, there really ought to be something bigger, better, more (dare I use this word?) 'spiritually' nourishing.
We seem to spend our lives accumulating wealth or making sure we have the latest gadgets, the latest fashions, the latest opinions.
Ancestors
And for what?
At the end of the day (and sorry to bring this up if you're having your morning coffee) we all die.
So what has changed since we climbed out of the trees?
Do we live more fulfiled lives than people, say, in the 1800s? Or people in ancient Greece or Egypt? Are we in any way more enlightened or have we gained any special knowledge our ancestors did not already possess?
Sure, we have travelled to the moon, we have iPhones, high-definition televisions in three dimensions, pot noodles, electron microscopes and Simon Cowell. Science has the Big Bang theory but when all is said and done, that is just a clinical, meaningless take on countless far more colourful and emotive creation myths which have been handed down since time immemorial.
Which brings me to the notion of progress.
Progress is the idea that over time 'things' change for the better. They advance, improve, are refined.
Progress has become a cornerstone of our world, it is the very idea which underpins the whole of our society. It is the driving force of industry, the reason the markets wake up in the morning, it is the bandwagon we're all firmly strapped into, the means to an end.
One day, the hope is, progress will lead to perfection.
But perfection is a static, unchanging state. There everything stops. Perfection cannot be changed or improved upon, which is precisely why we will never reach it.
Progress, therefore, is an illusion. Progress is a horse and cart going round and round the same circuit, except the horse has been changed for a car and one day the car will be displaced by an equally mesmerising new-fangled thing.
So as we bounce along on the progress bandwagon, clutching our iPads, our calorifically-balanced energy bars and 48-hour roll-on deodorant sticks, going round and round the same tired track, perhaps it's time we thought about that lack of meaning a bit more.
The world around us can sometimes appear cold and functional, inert and lacking in meaning. Some cityscapes are particularly austere and bleak, devoid of any kind of warmth or inspiration. They are places we rush through. Perhaps this is why we constantly yearn to escape them, to the countryside or abroad.
There is something magical about a city which has grown organically over centuries, with ginnels and alleyways and hidden corners all around, just as there is magic in the design of a flower, or the way a tree has formed its branches. These are the things which inspire us, which nourish us.
Barren
Barren urban landscapes, utilitarian buildings, city blocks laid out with uncompromising practicality so bland one look makes you want to despair, the constant need for stimulation, to be plugged into the hum of the world whether we're watching TV, ironing or out jogging, all of this does nothing to nourish us, to make us feel content. It can never be enough.
I've heard one author describe the modern world as a mild form of torture and I have to say, on occasion, I'm inclined to agree.
It's not that everything about the modern world is bad or that science has got it all wrong or that things like pot noodles and iPhones and Twitter and Facebook are inherently corrupting, it's just that sometimes the world forgets we have a soul.
So the materialistic world has its drawbacks. So far, so cliched. So what? Do we have room for something more 'spiritual' and when I used that word I'm not talking about pithy clairvoyants, ghost hunting with Yvette Fielding or your daily horoscope.
I mean something deeper, innate, a yearning we all have from time to time for inner calm, for wisdom. The feeling we ought to know more about the world than we do but that, dreamlike, that knowledge is always just out of reach.
Perhaps we ought to stop chasing it. Sometimes you can go further just by standing still.
It's not Gillette's five blades compared to four, it's not driving so close to the person in front they can see the colour of your teeth; it's not Olly Murs, or William Hague not being gay or The Stig being unmasked.
It's about climbing off that bandwagon, unplugging the MP3 player and exploring the valleys and hills around us (not real valleys, you understand: metaphorical ones, i.e. new experiences).
And likewise that doesn't mean giving up all you hold dear and going to work in a commune or Africa (although if that's what you want, so be it).
It does, however, mean taking more time to think about what's important in life, going out for a walk, asking someone how they are and meaning it, occasionally using a bicycle instead of a car, not throwing away your old clothes just because they're out of fashion, throwing a party just for the hell of it, planting a tree, being nice to your parents, being nice in general, taking a deep breath when things don't go your way – relax, one way or another, you will get there in the end. Oh, and one more thing...
Take a deep breath. Now smile. Now that's progress.
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Thursday 24 May 2012
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