Two Weeks (pause)→Two Months→One Complete Remote Year.
Managing the clock and my own expectations during a year of constant crazy.
The clock. It’s barely moving. I’m staring directly at it and, nothing. It’s broken. It’s definitely broken. Well, let me just check Facebook quick. I want to look at some photos from last weekend. What color shirt was she wearing? I can’t believe I actually posted that caption. 5 LIKES…?
In an unequal world, time is the great equalizer. The average human gets 657,000 hours. But what is it about the way we think about or manage our time that makes some of these hours feel so vastly different. When you’re staring at the clock it barely moves, but once your eyes shift to social media it seems to slip away instantly.
Is it a product of the way we encode these moments? How much reflection we engage in during them? I have no idea.
But, I’ve just spent the most insane, spectacular, amazing two weeks of my life in Split, Croatia traveling with my sparkly new Remote Year family, and, as silly as it sounds, the fact that it’s been two weeks scares me.
Two weeks is half a month & a month is 1/12th of a year.
The fact that if I made all of our remaining 350 days into 1 cm squares they could fit on a single page scares me. They’re finite, and I have no idea if I should squeeze them tightly, so as to make them slowly drip away— or if doing so would result in them squishing between the cracks in my arms and slipping out more quickly.
Time perception is an actual term in psychology. It’s the construction of time in our brain, and it’s malleable under certain circumstances. For example, Chronostasis is the common illusion in which the introduction of a new stimulus appears extended in time by the brain. Emotions such as awe (or fear) have the effect of manipulating time perception as well.
But how is it possible to experience new stimulus or a sense of awe constantly? You would have to be searching out new experiences every day. You would have to be continually uprooting yourself just as you were beginning to get comfortable. You would have to be insane.
I’ve heard from past and current Remote Year participants that a full Remote Year actually feels like 10 years. That 1 Remote Year week feels like a month. I’m so excited for this opportunity to, even if only in my own head, extend my time and expand the experiences that I’ll have on this earth.
I’m trying to take a deep breathe in every moment.
To take advantage of serendipity, document this journey like I’m getting paid to (I’m very clearly not), and hold constant only what I must to pay the bills.
I’m using this time to challenge my own mind to overcome everything that’s held me back from doing what my heart told me and to be curious enough to listen to all of the things I’ve been too stubborn to hear before.
Yeah, it’s already been two weeks. But all the comfort I’ve already built up here in Croatia that’s beginning to make the time move just a bit more quickly is only another 2 weeks from being destroyed.