The Invitation That Cut Through the Hurry

An invitation from the heart.

The invitation was beautiful. Hand-drawn, bursting with the kind of unbridled creativity only a child possesses. My daughter had poured her heart into it, a tangible expression of her excitement for this party she had meticulously planned. And the date and time? Carefully chosen, she explained, "So you can come, Daddy. You won't be too busy then."

That last sentence landed like a gentle but firm hand on my chest. "You won't be too busy then." I spent the next three days pondering about this.

The truth, stark and painful, washed over me. I had been rejecting her. Not intentionally, not with any malice. But with the constant, almost reflexive shield of "I really need to get this work done," or the dismissive "Just ten more minutes." I saw it then, in the careful planning of her invitation, the quiet way she'd tried to carve out a space for me in her world – a space I'd been inadvertently shrinking with my perpetual busyness. She is emotionally intelligent enough to understand that I needed my space, but I was pushing her away at a time when I shouldn’t have been working!

It wasn't just her invitation; it was the dawning realisation that this wasn't an isolated incident. My wife, too, often received the hurried version of me, the one with an eye on my phone and the half-hearted responses. Suddenly, the consultant's mantra – "just getting things done" – felt hollow. What was the point of all the "getting things done" if I was missing out on the very people who mattered most?

This isn't just a personal failing, I've come to see. It feels like a broader cultural issue. How often do we greet each other “Hi, How are you?” and respond with a rushed, "Good, thanks, just busy"? I catch myself doing it all the time. Even as a trainee, the promise of a less frantic life as a consultant felt like a distant, perhaps mythical, land. Now that I'm here, the busyness persists. Maybe the training wasn't just about mastering skills, but also about internalizing a relentless drive to "get things done" – consults, calls, research, admin, family, health, spirit – an endless, self-imposed circle of doom.

And who pays the price? The very relationships that anchor us: spouse, children, friends, our connection to something greater. We become so focused on the doing that we neglect the being with those we love.

I suspect the issue isn't just the insidious creep of hurry into every corner of our lives. Modern technology, with its constant demands on our attention, only fan the flames. Our brains are being rewired for instant gratification and fragmented focus, making it even harder to be present, to savor moments, and to truly conne’ to truly connect.

My daughter's invitation was more than just an invitation to a party. It was an invitation to reflect. To recognize the subtle but profound way hurry has been shaping my interactions, my priorities. It was a reminder that love, and the deeper connections that give life meaning, cannot flourish in a hurried heart. They require presence, patience, and a willingness to set aside the endless to-do list for the sake of what truly matters. And that, I'm beginning to understand, is a lesson I desperately needed to learn.

I truly hope you can learn from my experiences! It's so important for us to cherish our loved ones and give them the time they truly deserve. Of course, work is essential, but really, what is work without the joy and support of family? Let us not lose track of the meaning of life.