Busyness is the ultimate trump card. It will get you out of virtually every social situation, or at least buy you amnesty a few times when you let a friend down. "I'm so sorry I forgot your birthday. I've just been so busy."
It's also the excuse we use when we've really screwed up. Sprinkle a little religious babble into the verbiage and the guilt just washes away. "Sorry I didn't call you when you were in the hospital. I have just so much going on right now. I know you thought you were going to die and had reached the depths of helplessness when you were unable to wipe your own bum. But I'm sure God will work all this out for the best. I'll be praying for you."
If I'm busy, I don't have to be responsible for what I fail to do. Yet my actions send a message whether I intend them to or not. Of course, it's probably no coincidence that most people set up a life of near panic. Like any other addiction busyness works so well. It gives us the edge to avoid emptiness, loneliness, unpleasant memories, hurt, intimacy - and, subsequently, the clarity that silence and an unhurried life can bring. Still, almost everyone I know is trying to get caught up, trying to commit to fewer things, and aching to get away from the frantic race that consumes modern America. Self included. Truth is, sometimes I don't want a slow-paced, intentional life. I have systematically engineered a life of chaos. The consequences at least appear better than facing the reality of my own life. And so each generation is more disconnected than the last. When I look around a the world, I see a bunch of people desperate to know they are loved living in the shadows of a community too busy to pay attention to anyone but themselves. (Nathan Foster)
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