I’m not usually described as, nor do I typically empathize with, Thoreau-spouting twirps or Luddites whining about the march of progress, but there are some very interesting observations in Quitting the Paint Factory, a Harper’s piece by Mark Slouka about maybe slowing down just a little so we each don’t die with a crumpled to-do list in our clenched fists.
“I distrust the perpetually busy; always have. The frenetic ones spinning in tight little circles like poisoned rats. The slower ones, grinding away their fourscore and ten in righteousness and pain. They are the soul-eaters.”