We could probably have a rousing debate about the role of time in our lives. Is it simply a container? Or does it control everything? And if so, how - like a fairy godmother or rather more as the ogre of our stories? We might assess it differently depending on the day or hour. Time is the gift of modernity. It’s the spaciousness of wonder. It’s also the spectre of our mortality.
Is it any surprise that we can’t stop thinking about it?
Historically, humans didn’t have to. Without clocks, the rhythms of the sun and moon, seasons, harvests, basic needs for sustenance and rest framed most days. Productivity and efficiency, those esteemed judges looking over the shoulder of our nows, are relatively new to the scene. But in the 21st century, we use light to stretch possibility; we partition exercise, work, social interaction, rest, family, and community into separate boxes we then need to juggle; We try to maximize, optimize, and outperform ourselves.
Where’s the magic in that?
As I read and reflect and try to understand my own journey, I am constantly wondering about where I belong in the productivity universe. Aren’t you?
Are we Do-ers or Be-ers? Professionals or drones or hobbyists? Creatives or “just” people who get a little artsy or crafty or imaginative from time to time? Somehow, we expect to be able to pin ourselves down to what we are supposed to be maximizing, optimizing and outperforming today.
But while my answers to those questions will forever remain in flux, time is a ready measure for where I’m headed, what I’m chained to, what I value.
I pronounce my efforts worthy or less so, depending on how much time I have given to them. I measure moments in terms of speed moving through a checklist or against optimal outcomes. Some of those exercises are useful.
I like Oliver Burkeman’s 3-3-3 method for structuring a day, and I’ve shared my favorite prioritization tool in a previous post. Productivity expert, Jocelyn Glei, of the Hurry Slowly podcast has several suggestions for tracking progress.
But these all beg the question, what are we tracking, measuring, and optimizing for?
We can excel at achieving and nevertheless wonder whether there’s more to living fruitfully than that. Glei herself qualifies her suggestions with an important reminder:
Do I want my tombstone to say: ‘She checked all her email.’
Or do I want to strive for something grander?”
I’m taking a class that pairs mindset exercises with creative challenges, making the case for reflection as a necessary balance for creative angst and the stressors of producing, promoting or monetizing our imaginations. I dug in, thinking it would be a helpful use of my time, but I got more than I bargained for - a full, in-your-face recognition of my need to unharness my ambitions from the clock.
Because, according to Glei, we have tangled our ideas of fulfillment with time. Specifically, the future we are forever striving toward. She says:
“Sometimes, even as I’m writing — and ostensibly enjoying the writing! — I’ll notice myself jumping ahead, wanting the work to be unfolding faster, wanting it to already be complete so that I can tend to something else that urgently needs my attention. Even as I’m seemingly “immersed” in my creative process, I can feel my attention trying to peel away from the present moment and race into the future.”
It’s not so much flow, as a conditioned push toward a more we may not even have defined for ourselves.
Regardless of how lofty or simple our goals, or how crowded or empty our calendars, we are humanly deciding moment after moment and day after day how to live in time, and it’s up to us to negotiate how we use our precious hours.
For me, that means
stop managing my creative productivity with an iron fist
let go thinking that I can someday mark my life’s work “successfully complete”
drop out of the “try hard” race against an imaginary timekeeper
Because, besides the fact that I haven’t even totally figured out my ultimate creative destination, the one thing I know about creative work is that it’s never done.
Some days, I may need to buckle down to meet a deadline. But other days are for slow process. And every day requires rest. When the way isn’t clear, it never hurts to read !
Take time…your way…
I love this topic! It comes up regularly in my drawing classes, usually with a student (or 5) saying, "I'm so slow! I only got this small amount done today" in our 3-hour class. I encourage them, as you are here, to detach their notions of achievement or what's "better" from time or speed. If you're engaged in the creative process and learning from it, who cares how long it takes? But it's challenging to shift out of the cultural biases we're so deeply trained in.
I know, right? What am I hurrying for?
I think a lot about "spaciousness of mind" which, to me, means having the mental openness to consider ideas without pressure to fit them into the plan (which leads to the schedule, which leads to the hurry). Would it be ridiculous to put "time for spaciousness" into my planner?