: Elad Mishan 05  April 2015
There is a lot spoken about overload.
But not enough.

Another epidemic in our new age. It permeates beneath the surface, swells and strengthens before our unseeing eyes, and we don’t pay it any attention at all. For the past few decades, our culture has been preparing its foundation and infrastructure, from the development of capitalism as such, through the globalization that envelops our provincialism from all angles, to the virtual transport pipes that were dug beneath the basics of our day to day lives.

And we are overloaded to the point of exhaustion. We get up in the morning and open an overloaded closet. Standing next to our coffee machine, we make our choice from 13 different flavors. We get in the car and switch between numerous radio stations, with broadcasters racing against themselves to fit dozens of items into an impossible timeframe. Current events, opinion, news, debate, commentary and weather reports. We drive on a bottlenecked freeway, one of an endless herd of solitude. Overloaded with thoughts, telephone calls, hopes and disappointments, we arrive at work. The desk is cluttered, the inbox is full, the meeting room is busy and the fridge is chock-a-block. The Facebook newsfeed has more information that we can possibly handle, and in the hope of controlling all this overload, we choose to stop at the supermarket on the way home. We choose an alternative overload. Open the diary – full. Go out to lunch – lost in a sea of colorful clutter. We get home to find an overload of things strewn in every possible place. We take a few moments to chill with an overload of TV channels, a short conversation packed with so many things to discuss, overloaded dinner, overloaded sink of dirty dishes – even the shelf of shampoos and soaps in the bathroom is overloaded to the point of exhaustion. Get into bed overloaded with thoughts and enter a dream world packed with dreams.

And within all this clutter, is there even a chance to create something new? Ourselves? Or maybe something for ourselves? For others? Have we set aside even one small piece of our lives for a chance to release our exhaust, to be empty and hollow? For a small space of nothingness, even a fine groove? A place perhaps to thread something real, something pure and authentic…

Open up the desert of life, the heavens, the clean spaces – the empty, the simple. From here, one can be recreated anew, every day, every moment, every place, to clean and to be cleansed. Remove one layer of overload at a time, layers of ‘too much’, of heavy weight – throw it away, recycle it, do everything you can to deeply harvest until you get back to the fine seed – that basic, simple seed from which it is possible to bloom. To grow. To recreate yourself again.

To invent the next best thing.