What We Have Lost in a Daily Life Where 'Waiting' Has Disappeared

Once upon a time, 'waiting' was a natural part of everyday life.

Replies to letters took days, seasonal fruits could only be eaten once a year, and nights spent waiting for words from someone you loved were more poignant and beautiful than the moonlight. Through the act of 'waiting,' we faced the world, formed relationships with time, and let our thoughts wander toward the future.

However, today, technology treats 'not making people wait' as the greatest virtue, and society is completely steeped in that value system.

Open your smartphone, and messages arrive in an instant.

Things you want are delivered the next day.

Videos are watched at 1.25x or 2x speed, and the very act of 'waiting' is treated as if it were a waste.

In this era where being slow is considered 'inefficient' and 'inferior.'

When did we become people who 'cannot wait'?

Things that only grow by 'waiting'

It may sound strange, but 'waiting' had a clear meaning.

For example, the time spent waiting for food at a restaurant.

In the past, during that time, we would talk with those at the table or build anticipation for the meal while feeling hungry. Even if it was just for a few minutes, there was a 'starting point of a story' there.

The same is true while waiting for a reply from someone.

The few minutes, hours, or sometimes days that a reply is delayed.

During that time, we would think of the other person and let various emotions cycle through us.

'What will they reply?'

'Did I offend them?'

'Have they not read it yet, or—'

That process of 'imagination' gave depth to the relationships between people.

'Waiting' was an invisible bridge connecting the future and our emotions.

In a world of immediacy, emotions lose the space to ripen

Of course, the benefits of immediacy are immeasurable.

We have become so accustomed to a convenient and fast world that we can no longer live without it.

However, the fact that everything can be obtained instantly also means, conversely, that we cannot have the 'time for emotions to ripen'.

Notifications arrive instantly, responses are demanded immediately, and fingers move before thoughts can form.

But is that really an action that came from 'your own feelings'?

Information and replies obtained instantly have no range of 'anticipation'.

That is precisely why joy and sadness are light, short-lived, and flow away immediately.

It is as if the expiration date for emotions is earlier than it used to be.

The other world that 'slowness' gives us

I am thinking about this now.

Perhaps 'being slow' is the most luxurious way to spend time in the modern age.

For example, consciously putting down your smartphone and going for a walk.

The scent of the wind, flowers by the roadside, the voices of children, passing conversations.

These are landscapes that you would never see when heading to your destination at a fast pace.

Or, daring to try writing a letter.

Reading over the words you wrote, sealing the envelope, and dropping it in the mailbox.

The few days until it arrives, the time spent waiting for a reply while picturing the other person's face.

That is, so to speak, 'the act of weaving emotions over time'.

In exchange for efficiency, we are on the verge of losing the 'power to deepen relationships' and the 'margin to nurture stories'.

What it means to be a 'person who can wait'

In a world where AI instantly answers everything, if there is something only humans can do,

might it not be the ability to endure 'time without answers'?

To remain calm while holding onto uncertainty.

To not rush someone's words, and to trust in the maturation of feelings.

To not fear waiting, and to know that true dialogue lies within that very act.

There is a kindness in a 'person who can wait'.

There is a sense of space in a 'slow person'.

And there is a depth in a person who can say, 'There is no answer yet'.

The revolution of trusting time

'Waiting' is, in fact, an 'act of trusting time'.

Even if an answer doesn't come immediately, the world will surely return something to us.

Even if we cannot meet right away, we can trust that our hearts will reach each other.

Even if it isn't completed immediately, continuing to walk turns it into a story.

To trust the flow of time in such a way.

Is that attitude itself not the most precious and necessary 'humanity' required right now?

The act of 'waiting' quietly and deeply harbors a love for the future.