It had rained all night long. As I walked this morning, to my left the Tiber was in full flow, its pace faster than the near casual, lingering serpentine manner in which it weaves its way through and Out of Rome. On my right, along the road, cars sped away with one motorcyclist who tore down the road hammering nails of noise in the air. I kept to my own pace. I reflected.
I do not have to keep pace or keep up with others. There is much more to life than merely speeding away. I do not have to compete with others for life is not a race. It is a celebration, a feast that one enjoys most when one lives it at one's own pace.
I recalled the rat race to which many succumb. From the time they rise till they retire to bed, life seems to be for them just one mad rush. They look but do not see; they hear but do not listen; they touch but do not feel; they taste but do not relish; they smell but do not enjoy. What an impoverished life! And so they exist but do not live. And they expire even before they have died!
Time is so precious for sure. And that is why even God, Who otherwise is more than generous, doles it out with such scrupulosity: moment by moment. Yes, just one moment at a time. If I could live fully just that one moment, the hours would take care of themselves. Even more I will have lived fully! And living just one moment fully is indeed the Ideal pace for life.