On learning to drive slowly

and finding a new way for my nervous system to be in a car

Now that I have glasses, I’m enjoying real books again. Printed ones. You know. Made of paper.

I didn’t realise how much my vision had slipped. 

Though I’m now quite attracted to the printed word, I still adore audiobooks.  Since November I’ve been chiselling away at Tim Ferris’ Tools of the Titans.

Recently I listened to a bit where he describes the most luxurious experience to be those of slowing down and not feeling rushed in daily life. 

The notion isn’t to live as though we had an endless amount of time, but that since our existence is, on a cosmic scale, very very short, that savouring time and having the means and presence of mind to find pleasure and savour moments is true luxury.

Of course, I was listening to this whilst barrelling down a twisty secondary highway along the ocean. Driving twenty kilometres per hour over the speed limit, I wasn’t necessarily in a hurry.

Instead? I was rushing. Partially because of how much I love to drive a hot hatchback. I love the feeling of going …