The Urgency Bug

Metaphorical Narrative

The world rushes like a stampede, shouting: “Move! Faster! Catch up!” Feet pound, clocks scream, and the air vibrates with panic. In the middle of it all, you stand still—calm, a sheep letting out a quiet “baaaa.”
You don’t run. You don’t chase. You graze.

Then the revelation hits: Now I know why you don’t leave… because I keep feeding you. Urgency is nothing more than a hungry bug, surviving off the scraps of your attention. The moment you stop feeding it, it starves. Just like the unwanted bug your cat insists on catching—but you don’t want it, don’t need it, and certainly don’t have to keep it.

Core Insight

Urgency isn’t a force of nature. It’s a parasite. It survives only if you keep chasing it, keep treating it as real. The truth is simple: urgency leaves you if you leave it.

And deeper still: moving forward in life doesn’t come from striving. Existence and presence are far greater than any frantic effort. When you act out of being, the step itself is already whole. You still move forward—but the movement flows from presence, not panic.

Saturday Experiment

• Notice the next time urgency arrives.
• Pause, smile, and whisper: “baaaa, no thank you.”
• Visualize that bug scuttling away once it has nothing left to feed on.
• When you take your next step in anything—work, conversation, even a walk—feel it come from presence, not as an escape from now.

Sunday Reflection

What happens when the character stops feeding urgency with his energy?
How does he feel when he lets the bug crawl away on its own?
Where does he discover unexpected calm once the race disappears?
What shifts when his movement is born out of presence rather than striving?