How well said:
“With a Band-Aid,
We're going back and forth between the treadmill.
Our wounds are scabs,
Our feet long for the earth.”
This is not just a poetic reproach; it is an ideological voyeur of this age. Because modern man does not heal, he remains manageable. The Band-Aid is no longer a metaphor, but a system strategy: to make the problem invisible without solving it. The treadmill is a machine of civilization that produces the illusion of movement; there is sweat, fatigue, performance, but no progress. Keeping in motion is the most sophisticated form of the ideology of speed.
We are aging rapidly;
Life is like a bottle of cologne with an open cap,
In a corner of the rooms we smell the evaporating essence of our youth.
Time is not only flowing; it is commoditized. Performance is measured, efficiency is calculated, attention is bought. Youth becomes a market value, time an economic unit. Aging is therefore not biological; it becomes a systematic wear and tear.
This is what they call the new world:
Organic bread, organic eggs, organic yogurt...
But are we organic inside? Or are we full of plastic?
The problem is not food; the problem is consciousness. Products labeled organic have become the cosmetics of the secular conscience. Capitalist modernity sells nature but not naturalness. It packages health but does not produce peace. As the price of organic increases, the value of morality decreases. Because if everything becomes a commodity, so does the human being.
Instead of going to our village, we are trying to move it to the concrete and glass towers of the cities.
This is not just a spatial shift; it is a dissolution of the form of relationship. The village is not a geography, but face-to-face responsibility. The city produces anonymity; anonymity weakens responsibility; where responsibility weakens, morality loosens. This is why the modern city is a space of production: it produces identity, image, performance, but not belonging.
Maybe we are getting to the point where we are selling ‘organic people’ on the market shelves.
Who knows if they will sell them soon:
‘Listening friend’
‘Friend without a grudge’
‘Comrade who doesn't sell’
‘The yeast of a good son’
Because the commodification of the soul is almost complete. Relationships are now based on benefit. Networking, profit, efficiency, performance... Friendship has become an investment, loyalty a strategy, trust a risk account. If everything has a price, nothing has value.
The modern city has become a factory that steals the soul of man.
This factory does not only exploit labor; it exploits attention, it exploits emotion, it exploits will. This is precisely where the fatigue regime comes into play: people who are tired do not question, people who do not question do not object. This is not a coincidence; it is the logic of the order.
We work 16 hours a day and consume 24 hours a day;
We consume, but what?
Organic chocolate or fake happiness?
Consumption is no longer economic; it is a form of existential solace. We get tired, we reward ourselves. We are bored, we shop. As meaninglessness grows, consumption increases. This is not a cycle; it is an ideological mechanism.
Our coffees are gourmet, our phones are smart, but we are empty inside...
Access to information is limitless, but thought is in short supply. Because speed suppresses thought. Slowing down is risky; thinking people cannot be managed.
We don't know about our own childhood, our own past.
The past slows down. Memory produces resistance. That's why memory is weakened in the age of speed. Instant agendas, constant crises, endless noise... All to distract attention.
Everywhere there is a speed, a race...
Treadmills, gyms, social media, work rush...
But what's at the end of that speed?
A calm conversation, a smiling face, or a tired body and a lost soul?
The ideology of speed destroys depth. Without depth, meaning is weakened. When meaning is weakened, man shrinks.
The city is growing, but people are shrinking.
Friendships have become a rare luxury.
Neighborhood, a habit as simple as saying ‘hello’, is now a nostalgic concept.
This is not nostalgia; it is dissolution. In an anonymous society, shame decreases, responsibility weakens, morality is adapted to market conditions.
Our contact with the earth is as much as the asphalt we walk on.
Our feet are longing for the earth, our eyes are obsessed with the filter on the screen.
Filtered lives hide our unfiltered spaces. Simulation does not replace reality; it substitutes it.
And we are still in pursuit of organic living.
But ironically, we buy organic bread and eat organic yogurt;
Our heart is plastic, our soul synthetic.
The organic happiness we look for on the supermarket shelves is not within us.
Because organic starts in consciousness, not on the shelves. Morality is not produced with a label. Will cannot be bought.
Perhaps true organic life:
To sit with a friend for hours,
To be able to see a child smile,
Stepping on the ground, feeling the wind,
To be able to share troubles.
And to be able to do this without producing performance, spectacle, image.
But we don't know that.
We are so wrapped up in fatigue and intensity,
We have detached ourselves from real life and built a fake world for ourselves.
This fake world is sterile but soulless, comfortable but meaningless. We have given up freedom for comfort, depth for speed, responsibility for safety.
The village is far, the city is crowded, our friends are few,
But if we can still breathe, if we can still think,
We must not lose hope.
Because consciousness is still possible. Will is still revocable.
Modern man disappears behind organic shelves,
It forgets the values of the past and the future.
We are aging rapidly;
We cannot buy time, we cannot bring back youth.
But we can still choose thought, we can still choose love, we can still choose friendship.
Maybe that's all we have to do:
Off the treadmill, off the phone,
Sit in a corner and take a deep breath.
This is not an escape; it is a conscious detachment.
This is not a backtracking; it is a reclaiming of will.
Stepping on the soil.
Meeting real people.
Letting go of false organic happiness.
Because civilization is not built on a treadmill.
Society cannot heal with a band-aid.
Labels do not produce morality.
Peace be with you.