When I was younger, I always saw the world as this wide, open space, with so much to see and learn form at every turn, at every angle. Now as I grow older, I find my world constricting around me. There was so much I wanted to learn and see and experience, and now I only find myself able to taste a little bit of it. Whenever I turn to one of my hobbies I find another thing I’d like to do. And now things keep piling on things and I don’t think I’ll ever find enough time in my life to do it all. Tons of songs I’ve never had the time to really sit back and listen, movies I’ve yet to see, serials I’ve got but haven’t come round to yet, books I’ve bought but haven’t read, magazines and journals stacking up. Amid this huge jumble, I’ve realised I’ll never find the time to write poetry, or read about the arts, or even the classics I’ve always wanted to.
Instead of the broad range of topics I indulged myself in even a decade ago, I find myself limiting myself to only a few that I have a chance to enjoy fully. So no more sketching or listening to new singers or reading Plato or even new poets, new in the sense that I haven’t read them, that is.
Instead of being a tech guru on top of everything computer-linked, I now have a broad idea of the trends and innovations. Instead of being a cricket expert, I’m hard-pressed to put a name to some new Indian players. Byron’s longer works I’ve abandoned to old age, when I shall presumably, have more time. Ditto Donne, Plato, Russel, and so much more.
The downside is that when I do get the time to try something new, I enjoy it so much! The first time I listened to internet radio, I found two country artistes I liked a lot. And the few books I’ve bought the last couple of months are a revelation. But where do I find the time to do all that?