The motions of the world

I have a conviction – one I can’t prove, but I believe it anyhow. I believer there is a clock within me, a living clock, and it keeps pace with the pulse beat of the world. I hear the slow ticktock of the planet when I stand in a salt marsh or walk the sands of Miramar, and I lose it the instant I slip behind a steering wheel. The moment I exceed the speed at which Ia was born to move, I lose the tempo of the natural world and become like a singer who has lost the rhythm of his song.

What science gives, the combustion engine takes away. The former tells us what the universe looks like; the latter numbs us to what we see. The faster we travel, the less we know. It’s as if speed itself is an infectious disease, deadly not only because of the mangled bodies that lie by the side of the road but also because of the impenetrable barrier it erects between ourselves and our world