Man on the Mountain

Every time I try to wrap my mind around this modern world I get completely lost in the speed and complexity.  I don't know how other people think (mind, not what they think, but how they think), but when I have time, I think in the dynamic of conversation.  I talk to myself.  When the first philosophers published their ideas, they did it in the form of Dialogues.  It was a form of thought experiment.  They offered a premise then acted as their own pro and con advocates, working out a problem until they could decipher a certitude.  I find myself following this same line of reasoning when I'm alone; I imagine talking to friends of mine who I know to be thoughtful people, people who would disagree with me, and I argue with them.  It's become almost an unconscious act for me, but unfortunately, many times the conclusions I reach become lost through the day, and I find myself creeping ever closer to the twilight of my life. 
For those who have been paying even a little attention to my writing, you might have noticed that time is an obsession for me.  Perhaps my father passing away so young after a five year stretch with Alzheimer's disease has awakened in me a fear of suffering the same fate; perhaps the idea of starting a family after turning forty has me craving a long life; or perhaps it's my own regret as I look at all the time I've wasted in my life, making me wish I had it back.  Either way, I believe this modern world, with the sheer volume of people, the rushing tide of images and ideas, the swirling noises clamoring for attention, and the values of constant work and action- pushed on us from the very start of consciousness- are conspiring to rob us of the ability to sit and ponder the very times we live in.  The idea of sitting still for half a day, in the middle of the week, staring at animals moving around, or a river flowing past, or the light of day changing, sounds like a dream, or a vacation day, a rarity.  There is nobody in this country who could legitimately conceive of doing this two days in a row, at least no one who is tied into the modern race.  This... time, this swampy, slow, contemplative mindset is an anathema to the salesmen of the world, because they know that if people stopped and looked around at their lives, they would find most of the things they value are meaningless, and that their right to free thinking has been leased out to the Sellers.  I've fallen victim to this same fate... I've let myself be entertained way too easily, and I've let time get by me without a fight.
In September of 2001, we listened to the news broadcast on the radio of the attack on the World Trade Center.  Our boss had a small black and white TV that we watched the footage on at lunch.  At that time, I was making fun of a friend of mine for getting the internet installed at his house.  None of us had bought into the cell phone trend that was jumpstarting.  We waited until we got home and we watched the rest of the day as all the images poured in.  It was an absolute shock and we watched for months as the war, and the hunt for the men who enacted this awful violence began.  On April 15, 2013, only twelve years later, two young immigrant brothers set off bombs at the Boston Marathon.  My purpose isn't to discuss crime and punishment or the validity of war, but to illuminate the changes that have occurred in our country since those two incidents exploded in our collective psyche.  Now, you could almost climb to the top of a tall mountain and watch as the pulse of light from the Boston bombings shimmered across the glowing and wired network of our country.  Imagine the network of electrical impulses, the web turning from a normal and efficient pink glow to an overactive hot white.  The news wasn't confined anymore to the event, but encompassed our collective reaction to the event, culled from the immediate and vast onrush of opinions and thoughts.  The anthill was disrupted and the ants rushed out. 
I do understand our modern age.  I know from looking at this example what we have become.  Somewhere along the line, maybe in my lifetime, maybe it had been building to this before I was born, we turned from a desire for individuality, turned away from the lone pilgrim teaching his truth, towards a new methodology... a groupthink.  Where does it lead?  Ruination?  Or salvation?