Caesium

Since the beginning of time, human beings have been compelled to track time.  Before we evolved to the precision of atomic clocks, time was measured, according to this evening’s edition of Wikipedia, in cyclic events and movement like “the apparent motion of the sun across the sky, the phases of the moon, the swing of a pendulum, and the beat of a heart.”  While time itself is a constant, how we relate to it is another story completely. As we age it somehow seems to speed up to the point where we feel like we never have quite enough of it.

Have we ratcheted up the pace of our lives with technology in response to our thirst for more time?  Do we now move in high gear at all times just because we can?  Where is the value in warp speed?  With an overwhelming amount of evidence presented on the virtues of slowing down, many of us still find this impossible to do.

 

Although I’d like to be, I’m not exempt from the uncomfortable heat of time breathing down my neck. I should be wise to the dangers of overfilling my plate, experienced in the degradation of quality that comes with spreading myself too thin, attuned to that feeling that I’m doing so much I can’t do anything really well.  In a recent conversation with a colleague, I’m perplexed by this sense that I never win.  I don’t lose per se, but I don’t come in first.  I chalk it up to the fact that I am fortunate to work in an environment full of ridiculously talented people where there will always be someone smarter, faster or better than me at something, but there’s a part of me that can’t quite shake the idea that maybe if I slow down and tackle less I will feel like I win.

And so I’m contemplating simplicity. I’m looking at the tasks at hand at the office and prioritizing according to the value I can add and the passion I have around each assignment, with the intent to suggest delegation or a pause for those that fall to the bottom of my list. I’m willing myself to regulate the pace where it’s in my control to do so. This evening’s run with a friend, intentionally slowed to a comfortable cadence, was the most enjoyable 3-1/2 miles I’ve moved through this summer, in spite of the fact that it was still eighty degrees outside. I think I’ll feel better. Less is somehow more.

Even though life’s clock ticks ceaselessly, time really is a constant.  The pace is in our heads. There’s a soothing and confident voice repeating again and again that you have plenty of time.  You need to trust it.  Because when you do, amazing things happen:  It becomes easy to listen; I mean really listen.  The need to race to the finish line falls away.  You begin to feel comfortable enough to open up and wallow in the journey. You’re more than okay with completely losing yourself in the moment you’re in.  And with the discovery that you really can take a little extra time to alter the way you experience life, what once seemed difficult becomes easy.

 “It’s always the simple that produces the marvelous.”  -- Amelia Barr