Treatise on Thought

The biggest crisis of the modern world is that we don’t have enough time to think. Or is it that we don’t take time to think?

We’re surrounded by endless distractions, resulting in what the author of Driven to Distraction calls “culturally generated ADD”. We struggle to focus. And worst of all, we perpetuate this trend by ensuring our content is “optimised” for modern attention spans. Short. To the point. No superfluous information, no unnecessary descriptions.

It’s something I’ve been struggling with. The older I get, the less intelligent I feel, and it’s primarily to do with the pressure of providing an immediate response to any and all stimuli without having enough time to crystallise my thoughts. 

So what causes the pressure? A heavy workload, misplaced priorities? I decided to look deeper into the issue and what I found is both shocking and somehow expected.

Back in 2014, the New York Times had an article dedicated to the same topic called “No Time to Think”. It discussed a recent – at the time – finding that people preferred to give themselves electric shocks rather than spending time in a room with nothing to do but think.

Why? 

Psychologist Steve Taylor believes we perceive ourselves as trapped within our heads. And if we’re trapped, we’re lonely, because we have no one to share the burden. To avoid dealing with this reality, we focus on external distractions.

A complementary hypothesis suggests that we fixate on the negative when we turn our thoughts inward. We ruminate, replaying our mistakes and breeding feelings of inadequacy. External distractions are an easy escape.

So what’s happening and why is it a problem?

An oft-repeated quote by French philosopher Blaise Pascal posits that “all of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

And actually, studies suggest that not having time to think and reflect impairs our ability for empathy. So while Steven Pinker’s argument in The Better Angels of Our Nature that violence in society has declined may be true, mental health issues are on the rise. 

The overabundance of distractions combined with constant demand on our limited time not only impacts our health, but reduces our productivity and capacity for thought. 

So what do we do? 

Most solutions tend to centre around mindfulness. A number of leading companies are championing mental health, starting with meditation. It’s especially relevant for customer-centric businesses, which need to tap into employee creativity to develop solutions that wouldn’t be possible without the space for employees to make neural connections.

Some people are put off by the concept – but it’s not necessarily about sitting still. It’s about giving yourself time to be present. It’s about intentionality. 

While I was writing this, I was thinking of a good friend I’ve known for most of my life. We see each other quite rarely, but I highly value each meeting. This is the one friend with whom I’m guaranteed an intellectual debate. And most importantly, I never feel like I’m rushing anywhere with my thoughts – I have the freedom to fully consider my position before responding. 

That’s the kind of space I need to make within myself. That’s the time I need to give myself on a regular basis. So maybe it’s time to practise what I preach and direct my attention inwards. Here’s hoping it will make me feel more intelligent again.

Review: Roger Daltrey at London Palladium

Today is my grandfather’s 76th birthday. He’s two years younger than Roger Daltrey. And even though he’s still fit and active, I can’t quite picture him dancing across the stage, bellowing out rock lyrics quite like the latter. Then again, that’s probably what separate legendary rock stars from the rest of us.

Before you accuse me of disparaging my grandfather on his birthday, he’s a legend in his own right, leading his football team to multiple victories during his tenure as head coach. That being said – and appreciated – this is still a blog post dedicated to Roger Daltrey and his incredible drive.

The London concert was the final leg of the “Who Was I” tour. The format was unusual, but in the best possible way – despite the huge venue, Daltrey was keen to facilitate an intimate experience for his fans, answering both pre-submitted questions and occasionally responding to screams from the crowd.

I can’t claim to be a massive The Who fan – I like them, I know their hit songs, and I can even name all the bank members, but I don’t know much about their history or individual careers. I was surprised to discover that one of their big breaks happened when they opened for The Beatles.

This tour was the perfect introduction to Roger Daltrey as an artist in his own right – he talked through his choice of songs in his setlist, which were a mix of his own work, The Who hits, and covers of artists who had had a profound influence on him.

I came away with a deeper understanding of his impact on rock music and a greater appreciation for his talent. Daltrey tackled even the slower songs with an unbelievable energy, keeping the audience enraptured throughout. And, well, how often am I going to see a living legend of rock in concert?

Review: Le nozze di Figaro at Glyndebourne

If I could bottle up an emotion and relive it for eternity, it would be Wednesday’s visit to Glyndebourne. I had lived in anticipation of this moment ever since a fellow hiker on my trip to the Dolomites told me of the festival’s existence and I later watched a stream of the 2012 Glyndebourne production of The Marriage of Figaro during the pandemic. 

Anticipation did not dull the experience in the slightest. I did feel a pang of disappointment when I realised the staging was identical to the 2012 version, but I soon lost myself in the magic of Hera Hyesang Park’s clear soprano. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how different elements stand out in different performances? 

In the 2012 recording, I was besotted with Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino. Neither the Cherubino from this year’s Royal Opera House production nor the Cherubino from this year’s Glyndebourne could hold a candle to her. In fact, it almost added insult to injury that Ida Ränzlöv’s interpretation portrayed Cherubino as vulgar instead of cheeky. Though I cannot fault her voice, which was beautiful.

The sleazy Count Almaviva is, understandably, my least favourite character. That being said, there has been a consistently high calibre of singers in the role, with Mexican baritone Germán Olvera in the 2022 Glyndebourne production giving a stunning performance. Disappointingly, Brandon Cedel’s Figaro himself was forgettable – though I enjoyed his singing, Cedel lacked stage presence.

As disparaging as I may sound in my critique, the opera – not to mention the experience of attending Glyndebourne – was still mind blowing. I felt like I was in a dream. The flowing dresses and sharp tuxedos, the stunning architecture and perfectly manicured grounds – it felt as if we were transported onto the set of a film about the British aristocracy. I can definitely see a visit to Glyndebourne becoming an annual tradition.

Le nozzi di Figaro ends tomorrow, but the Glyndebourne festival runs until 28 August.

Review: Anything Goes

After an action-packed few days, this week was supposed to be quiet. Just work, The Marriage of Figaro at Glyndebourne on Wednesday, more work, and a quick trip to Berlin over the weekend. Life, as usual, had other ideas.

First, I was invited to a game show in East London for Thursday night. Then, my Canadian friend arrived in town, so we met for a walk through Clapham on Monday. Another friend announced she’s having a last minute hen do on Friday. 

Tuesday was still free. But then I spotted Anything Goes tickets on sale and decided to make up for the negative experience of Summer Solstice by taking my Ukrainian guest to something with five star reviews. 

I didn’t regret it. Written by composer and songwriter of the Golden Age of Musicals Cole Porter, Anything Goes is on another level of musical theatre. Following its original run, Anything Goes was revived in 1987 with a slightly different plot, which is the version performed here in London. Having read the synopsis of both, I must say I prefer today’s version.

From the music to the decorations, the staging was fantastic – and the art deco Barbican Centre was ideally suited as a venue to host a show set on an ocean liner in 1934. I can’t say I entirely understood the storyline or why certain characters were attracted to others, but it was all beside the point – the performances were breathtaking.

Kerry Ellis in the role of Reno Sweeney is the very definition of a triple threat – gorgeous, charismatic, and incredibly talented, she stole the show and the hearts of everyone in the audience. The dialogue was witty, the songs catchy, and the dancing contagious, putting everyone in an excellent mood for the remainder of the evening.

Anything Goes is playing at the Barbican Theatre until 3 September, so you’ve got plenty of time to catch it before the run finishes.

Review: James Blunt at Rochester Castle

Every single person I sheepishly told I was going to a James Blunt concert responded with a rendition of You’re Beautiful – which was a massive ego boost, let me tell you. But in all seriousness, that was the only song I knew. So why did I go? 

Well, as I mentioned in the review of the ill-fated Summer Solstice, I have a recently arrived Ukrainian guest staying for the foreseeable future. It was her birthday yesterday, so I decided seeing a popular singer in a beautiful venue wouldn’t be a bad gift. I wasn’t wrong.

We had a fantastic time. Our only mistake was to misjudge the English weather – almost unbearably hot as we left the house, it grew considerably colder once the sun had set. As we hadn’t brought warm clothes, we had to make do with expensive tea and coffee sold by one of the street food vendors – bought not for its taste (which was unbearable), but rather as a hand warmer.

Rochester Castle provided a stunning backdrop. The stage was set within the castle walls, casting an array of colourful lights across the 12th century stone tower – the best preserved in England or France, if Wikipedia is to be believed. Particularly meaningful to my friend was the church in the background lit up in the colours of the Ukrainian flag.

The concert itself started slowly with a warm up act from (I had to look this up) X-Factor runner-up Rebecca Ferguson, who had a few nice songs, but no stage presence. We took the time to get a snack and position ourselves outside the crowd on a slight elevation.

When James Blunt appeared, it was clear from the outset that we were in the presence of a true performer. He sang, he told jokes, he even put on a gas mask and went crowd surfing. It was brilliant. I discovered, to my surprise, that I knew a lot more James Blunt songs than I thought I did. And some I didn’t realise were James Blunt songs, such as OK by Robin Schulz. He kept the crowd singing long into the night.

The only regret I have about our visit to Rochester was that we missed out on seeing the town itself. What little I saw of the Medway harbour looked beautiful, so we’ll definitely be back.

Review: Madama Butterfly

The infamous opera tradition continues – if I plan to go to one, I inevitably end up going to a second within the same week. And so, first up, Madama Butterfly. Next week, it’s off to the highly anticipated Glyndebourne festival, where I’ve got tickets to Marriage of Figaro.

It’s never intentional, mind you. I guess good things just come in pairs. I’ve had Glyndebourne booked since March or April, but then it was the birthday of a close friend recently and since she’s my usual opera companion, I invited her to a performance of Madama Butterfly.

Unfortunately, on the day of, she was unable to make it, but my colleague stepped in to keep me company. After a bite to eat at the Seven Dials Market (I had actually intended to go to Neal’s Yard and failed to locate it), we went to the Royal Opera House to take our seats.

While the opera house itself was stunning as usual, the staging of Madama Butterfly was uninspired. I know that Puccini’s opera had courted controversy in recent years due to its insensitive depiction of Japanese culture, so after a year long consultation, the Royal Opera House presented an understated, yet respectful Madama Butterfly. Perhaps the set designers took this too far and, afraid to cause offence, decided to keep the decor bland.

The opera itself started slowly. I had hoped to catch Freddie De Tommaso in the role of Lieutenant Pinkerton without realising he was only singing in the first performance of the day. The evening performance featured Gianluca Terranova, whose voice was mostly drowned out by the powerful orchestra. There was a beautiful duet between him and Eri Nakamura in the role of Cio-Cio-San, but otherwise the first half was lacklustre. Luckily, Madama Butterfly really came into her own in the second half, and the show finished strong.

It was the last performance of the summer season, but Madama Butterfly returns to the Royal Opera House in September with a different cast.

Review: Invisible

I’m not sure whether the synopsis to Invisible was intentionally misleading, but the inaccuracy made for a powerful cognitive shift. Much like Project Dictator, the performance used humour to disarm and then, suddenly turning emotional and serious, drive the point home with force.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a big fan of Bush Theatre. Not only is the venue itself gorgeous – and never too crowded, which is hard to find in London – but the plays they commission are the closest representation of this country’s social fabric that I’ve ever encountered. 

Even more importantly, they’re consistently good. 

I can’t speak to how much of Invisible came from Nikhil Parmar’s personal experience, but he captured the versatility of human existence so often neglected in linear storylines. Especially, as he rightfully points out, in portraying people of colour. So often relegated to playing the sidekick – if given a role at all – it’s almost as if they’re invisible.

As Parmar masterfully transitions from comedy to anger to resignation, he achieves that which his character seeks to do – he becomes the hero of his narrative. 

Invisible is playing at Bush Theatre until 16 July.

Travels through England: Kingsgate Bay

This has truly been the most magical weekend. Summer is finally here to stay. At least for longer than a few days at a time. And I have taken full advantage. Not only did I run the Greenwich Park 10k on Saturday, but I visited Kingsgate Bay in Kent on Sunday.

Kingsgate was named such after King Charles I was forced to land there following a bad storm. It’s home to “some of the best [caves] in the country”, if The Beach Guide is to be believed, and also to a gorgeous chalk arch.

It’s much quieter than the neighbouring Joss Bay and Botany Bay, though equally stunning. A sandy beach nestled between chalk cliffs, the main attraction of Kingsgate is that it’s dog-friendly year round.

While Chip has never been keen on water, he loved his visit to the sea. I suspect it had something to do with the orange ball he found and happily chased into the waves. He even doggy paddled around, which was a joy to see.

The sunshine, the sea breeze, and the stunning surroundings all made for a memorable visit. Though we didn’t try it ourselves, we’ve heard that the nearby pub, The Captain Digby, comes highly recommended.

Running the Greenwich Park 10k

Whenever I used to participate in races, it was as a solo runner. But now it’s become a social activity, which has its upsides, but also – for someone as competitive as I am – its inevitable downsides.

Still, there’s one friend with whom we have a deal – we run together for almost the entire race, but then the last kilometre is mine to do with as I please. In other words, a sprint finish. It was her birthday last month, so I invited her to a race of her choice. She chose this Saturday’s Runthrough Greenwich 10k, and I’m so glad she did. It was fantastic.

The course was tough, with three laps through the park including both significant downhill and uphill portions. At the conversational pace we were going, however, it was perfectly manageable and, indeed, enjoyable.

As promised, I got the last kilometre to myself, which coincidentally happened to be the entire uphill portion. I kept steady, but the cheering of the volunteer organisers had me sprinting the last 100 metres of the hill, catching my breath, and sprinting another 100 to the finish line.

My friends weren’t far behind, so we raised the homemade flapjacks we received as a post race snack in celebration, and went to the Riverside to enjoy the sunshine. Not only did we end up walking another 15km on top of the 10km we ran, but we passed the tunnel underneath the Thames, saw the farmyard animals at Mudchute, and enjoyed stunning views from the Landmark Pinnacle.

In the words of Borat, great success.