Once in a while we should live—just to breathe. 

Most of my waking time, I’m thinking about work or work-related stuff. It’s mostly non-human, transactional relationships. And obviously, I’m not the only one. People around me spend most of their waking hours doing something that makes sense to them. Then only the weekends become the “enjoy” part of life—some have hobbies, some explore internally or externally, some invest time in relationships, and some just catch up on sleep.

Life isn’t simple, and it’s definitely not just about breathing. But we all live each day in a way that makes sense to us. Why wouldn’t you wake up and work? Why wouldn’t you hug your parents or partner? Why wouldn’t you walk your dog? Why wouldn’t you greet your office coworker with a big, bright smile? Why not? There are real returns to these actions.

But here’s what reading Haruki Murakami has made me realise (and I read just 5% fiction, so there might be better versions of this): life has another dimension, one that doesn’t need to make sense at all. It’s painfully slow to grasp, so quiet we miss it in plain sight, so subtle it’s hard to feel.

That part of life is silence… slow dancing… candles instead of fluorescent lights… salvation instead of rage… warmth instead of burn. It’s something that doesn’t make sense, something that doesn’t have any practical value, something often missed in the transactions of life. It’s the slow part of life. It’s painful for almost everyone, but it’s reality. It’s aloneness, but not loneliness.

I think we need it. Especially us, a generation raised and programmed by social media, a generation too fragile to challenge conformity, too distant from reality. Instead of feeding our brains with social approval, maybe we should look for that slow-burning flame inside. Just close our eyes and take it in, without worrying about the past or future. At least once in a while, we should shut down our senses and simply live…just to breathe!