It was my first day back at work after a quick break in Thailand, and I decided to have lunch at home. On entering my apartment, I was struck by the cacophony of car horns from the road 10 floors below and about 200 metres away from me. Why all the noise? What's the hurry? It seems to me that amidst the rush to make a buck more than the next man, many of us are losing sight of the things that really matter.

Socrates, the father of Western philosophy, said that the unconsidered life is not worth living. His point has two meanings: the first that not to consider one's actions leaves one too vulnerable to the actions of others, while his second is to live the best life possible within one's own agency.

In a society where saving face is of such importance we can take two views of what the considered life is. First, we can see the pointless beeping, shoving onto subways before anyone has got off and working all hours, as the need to make as much money as possible in a bid to have more control and social standing in life. Price.

Secondly, we can see it as stepping back from the maelstrom of city life, to let the traffic move as it will do without the help of horns, to let people off the subway train before getting on (do we really need a seat so bad if most of the working day is spent sat at a desk?), and to get home a little earlier to see family and friends and put children to bed. Value.

When Welsh poet William Henry Davies in his poem Leisure asked "What is this life, full of care, we have no time to stop and stare," he was asking fundamental questions about the ever frantic pace of the world he saw around him. I am unaware of when Davies wrote these lines, but I do know that he was born in 1871 and died in 1940, so god only knows what he would have made of the hordes of people spewing in and out of the entrances of Xizhimen station everyday as cars hoot bumper-to-bumper on the elevated intersections overhead.

The paradox of all this is, as we gain so much more "stuff" we lose so much more of ourselves. Does a larger price tag on a purchase really make us happier? Judging by some of the serious faces I see at Wangfujing coming out of boutiques with bags, I would say most definitely not. Conversely, get yourself down to one of the poorer areas, like a market I use sometimes near the Asian Games Village and you'll see far more smiles per square metre than you ever will in Oriental Plaza. Why is this?

The answer is not hard to find. Just go to your local park and look at the smiles on the faces of the old people there, before and after the machinations of their morning exercises amid the trees. It can also be found on the pre-adolescent child's face.

What have these two got in common? They are not in the grip of the madness of modern life. If you strike up a conversation with many old Beijingers, they will talk with pity about the lives of their children as they hurtle from day to day in a bid to turn their children into carbon copies of themselves. As for children, they are unburdened with the money worries and opinions of others, and see only the good in the world -- plus, many are lucky enough to spend much of their time with the elderly of this city.

So before you think I'm saying give it all up and quit your job, I'm not. What I am saying is take things a bit slower. Hold the door open for someone and appreciate the laugh you are given for doing so. Cycle to work instead of driving, and smile at the driver stuck in traffic blowing his horn like an idiot. Stop to take the time to look up at the trees as you walk down the road, and see spring budding on the branches. And above all else, make the effort to spend more quality time with those around you.

Contact the author at beijingraid@yahoo.com

(China Daily 03/17/2006 page15)