The Tyranny of Time

My life finally feel normal. What do I count as essential to the “normal” life? Lack of time. Feeling like I don’t have enough time to do all the things I want/need to do.

Think about it: how many times have you chatted with acquaintances or strangers about not having enough time? It is a conversation as ubiquitous as the weather. Everyone can participate--it requires no special degree or inside jokes or particular political affiliation or religious persuasion.

Except....

A few years ago, I did not participate in these conversations. I remember being involved in a graduate student Bible study, and a frequent complaint/prayer request of those involved was not having enough time to juggle all their coursework and teaching assignments. I said nothing because I had nothing but time.

I had dropped out of school, and although I still tried to pretend I was finishing my degree, I really hadn’t opened a philosophy book in months. I worked, but not always full time. I had maybe one social activity (of an unstructured sort--so excluding Bible study or church) every month or two. I had nothing but time and struggled to fill it with something--anything. This is the real tyranny of time: unending stretches of it, with nothing to do and no way to make it pass more quickly or pleasantly. I felt trapped, and powerless to change things. Time seemed quite cruel in that period of my life.

I wasn’t really motivated to do much. Weekends were particularly hard because they stretched out forever, with nothing to break them up. I watched a lot of TV shows, which, all things considered, was not a bad way to pass the time while depressed. They got my mind off of myself, they gave me a pseudo-emotional connection to other “people” which was rather valuable at the time, and provided me with some hope: these characters went through tough periods but came out of it in the end. They could not see how things would change, would get better, but they ultimately did. Just because I was going through a bad period and could not see how things would ever get better, does not mean things would not get better. It may just mean my imagination was insufficient to the task.

Time, of course, still seems a bit hard now that I don’t have enough of it, but hard in a different sort of way. Time is no longer a tyrant, but more of a severe copyeditor. It forces me to cut my story by 25%. It may seem cruel, but if done well, being forced to choose between so many competing things gives a kind of sharp focus for one’s energy that might not happen otherwise. Or so I hope that is the case.

It also teaches me to savor the moments when I can slow down and appreciate all that I have, all that I have been given. If I truly knew I had decades and decades left to do what I wanted to do or be with the people I love, I might end up squandering those might stretches of time. I might put off those good things because I knew I could do them later (sort of the way I wrote all my college papers--by putting them off to the last minute).

Not having enough time makes the time you have seem more precious. Not having enough time can make little things, like my cat curling up in my lap or biking home from work or swinging on a swing set seem even more wonderful. Time can also become a gift; the best presents are those that require time and effort to bring together--we recognize spending time with someone, more than spending money, as spending something truly of value.

There are times when I wish I could have uninterrupted weekends to really get to work on my philosophy degree (which, I am ashamed to say, has not been progressing nearly as fast as I’d like it to progress), or even to clean my apartment thoroughly or to crank out some really great blog entries that have been bumping around in my head. But chances are I won’t get those uninterrupted stretches of time, and I’m fine with that. I still remember the alternative: just how awful it was to have those uninterrupted stretches of time and nothing with which to fill it. I hope I continue to be thankful for the gifts I have been given that fill my days with laughter and purpose, even though I don’t seem to have time to enjoy them as much as I might wish.

Because I definitely don’t have enough time to be ungrateful.