This Hour Has More Than Enough Minutes

I've always been the sort to run about doing a handful of things at once and, exhausted from my exertions, proclaim at the end of the day that there's never enough hours, never enough minutes, never enough time. Certainly, with our North American mindset we've constructed time to be something that doesn't necessarily flow by, nor for itself. We tell ourselves that time is of the essence, that time is money, time needs to work with me- no, for me, and I'll be damned if I can't squeeze every productive minute out of the day.

I used to think like that (and sometimes fall back into that nasty trap - see November 7th) until I left the continent for the first time in 2004, headed for Asia, and my attitude towards time has changed more and more since Spain, India and Northern Africa. The concept of time is very different in other parts of the world, which sounds funny because isn't time experienced in the same way everywhere? No, time isn't clockable like it is here when you go outside of the Western, capitalist ideology. People don't work nine to five jobs, they aren't restricted to having an hour for lunch, and they aren't characterized by how they use time (ie: being 'punctual' or 'efficient').

Experiencing time as it flowed in Southeast Asia was nice, being on a trip and all. Things moved along whenever people were ready and no strict schedules were followed. Men slept in their shops and on the streets when it got too sunny. My uncle would sit at his front door until he felt like he wanted to move across the street, and he'd sit there until he felt like he wanted to move back to his door. I tried living on Spanish time for a while, where being at least five minutes late was not only culturally accepted, but expected. Nothing moved quickly in Spain, except maybe the trains. Like in India, the days seemed extra long because they were often taken in twos. People wake in the mornings for work, take their lunch and a siesta, then wake again in the late afternoon to head back to work. Similar to life in the ashrams in India, I woke and bathed, had a meal and went about my day, only to sleep in the afternoon, wake, bathe and go about my evening in a similar manner.

I came home after my time abroad thinking that I'd be able to incorporate a slower, more relaxed pace into my lifestyle. With full-time school and two part-time jobs, that has proven to be rather difficult. Often, my roommate and I will say things like, "Oh, I feel so bad/guilty because I didn't go running/to the gym/pool today!" and we'll take turns reminding each other that it's okay that we didn't get to do everything we wanted to do because there's always tomorrow and there's no sense in feeling so uselessly guilty about not getting as much done as possible. Because really, what's the rush? Slow down and enjoy. Besides, everything you did manage to do during the day was worth all the time that it took to do it. And that's something I work harder at really knowing every day.

It funny, the slower I do things, the more I realize that things don't take nearly as long as I think they do. When Annia and I were in Boston, the distance we could cover on foot in five minutes blew my mind. I started taking the time to go home in between classes for lunch and am amazed at how long a three hour break really is. That amount of time can hold a nice bike ride, lunch, laundry, reading, chatting, you name it. One Tuesday back in late October, in two hours, Niki and I managed to make and eat lunch (at a nice enjoyable pace), bake a birthday cake, a banana-chocolate chip loaf, and Halloween cookies. The compost was also taken out, half the dishes were done, cookies were offered to the neighbours, and Niki blew fifteen balloons while I wrote Happy B-Day Emma! on them and then we decorated her room in purple. All in two hours. When you slow down, it's amazing how much time there really is, isn't it?
3:07 pm