At the walking track at the military college nearby. The digital clock relentlessly and robotically checks off the minutes. Surrounded by people beating hell out of their bodies to a strident cacophany of distorted rock, I am struck by the lack of grace in our lives.
Artificial light, breeze block walls, plastic turf and sweating human pretzels, dingy in grey, straining at uncaring, unyielding equipment. Grimacing, they bully their bodies. Where has the joy of movement gone? Where is dance and delight? Poplars shimmering in the wind, leaves pirouetting to the ground. Sun on our faces and clean air in our lungs – the simple joy of life.
The digital clock clicks another minute. Angular, racking up our speed like a taxi meter – enough crunches, paces – fast enough? The old clock face was soothing, as our lives flowed by. The old telephone dial lazily rewound. Were our conversations kinder, softer?
Are we the only animal that has lost grace. Think cats, slinking, slumbrous or birds swift and swooping. The air is stale, smelling of sweat and feet, the surfaces harsh, dark figures
Where has it gone – and how can we reclaim it?