So you wanted more time?
‘Here you go.’ Sincerely, The Universe
Not having enough time is the number one complaint of the modern world. It’s our go-to. “I’m too busy right now” is the preferred gadget in our internal Swiss Army knife of excuses, quickly deployed at the first glimpse of a challenge arising. Even in cases when our conscious mind badly wants to learn a new skill, implement a new habit, change an old behaviour, or anything that requires somewhat of an effort — even if that effort is minimal — our unconscious mind swiftly takes over the initial momentum to remind us: “you’ve got no time for that!”
It seems to me however, that most times it’s not the lack of available time that drives this. Instead, it’s the fear of committing time to a suboptimal endeavour. Out of the infinite number of things I could be doing with my time, is this the thing I want to spend it on? Is this the thing that will get me ahead of the game in the nonsensical rat-race we live in? Or would I be wasting my time while others, who did make ‘the right choice’, continue leaping ahead, widening their gap in the perpetual sprint to nowhere?
I would argue it’s not so much the lack of time that leads to analysis paralysis –and hence, inaction. Rather, it’s the inner fear that ‘the wrong choice’ will carry an opportunity cost with it and keep us behind.
Should I take that painting class, or the financial accounting certification? Should I go to that birthday dinner, or work for 5 more hours? Should I spend Saturday away from screens and with the family, or finish up that report? Should I meditate every day for 20 minutes, or get to the office earlier than the others? It’s not lack of time. We all have the same 24 hours every day. It’s the way we prioritise.
Whatever the reason though, that’s not what brought me to Medium this time around. What’s been on my mind lately is the unique ways in which the Universe operates at times. “You wanted more time? There you go… let’s see what you do with it.”
Romanticising the quarantine is a class privilege. Not everyone has job security during this pandemic, nor the financial flexibility to stop earning for two, three, eight, twelve weeks. Most people have mortgages, loans, and medical bills, which won’t be pardoned in all cases. While some governments are taking action to lighten the burden of the people, these won’t be — by definition — more than palliative measures.
Romanticising the quarantine is also a social privilege. Few countries have the infrastructure in place to provide help to everyone in need. Hospitals are being used way over their installed capacity. Even though health practitioners are working inhumane shifts and doing their utmost best, not everyone is receiving the care they need. Since the country of one’s birth is merely an effect of randomness, being able to access good care on that basis is an unearned entitlement: a privilege.
Romanticising the quarantine is a class privilege.
That said, and without any interest in romanticising the situation or dismissing anyone’s current hardships and hurdles, I do find it obligatory to welcome, embrace and be grateful for the wonderful gift of time we are being handed.
The past few weeks have seen the pointless rat-race slowed down in an unprecedented manner; the Earth getting space to have that deep breath it had been yearning for decades; and people finding comfort in helping others, in plugging themselves to their communities –even if through technology– and in reaching out to friends and loved ones. In a time that calls for social distancing, we are finding it easier to get closer to one another. We are practicing physical distancing with social connectedness.
I have seen it in my closest circle, and have felt it in myself, the dissipation of the senseless fear of falling behind in the ‘race to the top’. It took putting the world on pause for us to see the purposeless enterprise of blindly chasing ideals imposed from the outside, at the expense of the things that matter most.
This is nothing new. Always — and I mean always — social connectedness has been more important than the mindless pursuit of money. Family life has always been more important than the next big raise. Lending a helping hand to those in need has always been more important than the amount of likes in our social media. So this is certainly not a grand epiphany for humankind. It is, however, a more explicit revelation of what we already knew, a mirror held up to our faces.
Let this be an opportunity to slow down, to rebalance our priorities, and stop hiding our own voids behind the guise of “lack of time”. Let this be an opportunity to shift our minds’ attention from the lethargy of custom and the pathology of fear, as beautifully put by Jason Silva, and into the new world we want to create on the other side of the cataclysm.
If we can’t go out (of our houses), then let’s go in (-to ourselves).
How do you imagine the new world? Will we return to our old ways, or will it be an upgraded world, a Planet Earth 2.0?
I certainly hope for the latter.
Our sheer surprise about the emergence of spontaneous positive movements to help others shows just how low our expectations have become. To be so surprised by acts of human kindness says a lot about the baseline we are operating from. Should our baseline for human kindness be so easy to exceed? The world looks on, fascinated, as Italians go to the balconies to meet their neighbours, Spaniards send videos of advice to Latin America, and young people in Canada share their groceries with their elders amid empty shelves in the supermarket. I, too, applaud this. At the same time, I feel slightly uncomfortable.
Kindness should be the norm, not the reason for wonder.
If after corona we return the previous world, the world of early December 2019 — if we prove unable to shift our shared consciousness permanently upwards — we will have learned nothing from this experience.
The world sits at an inflection point, one which carries with it the potential for humankind’s achieving a considerably higher level of awareness. When it comes to our ability to think in the long term, and delay gratification in favour of generations yet to come, I’ve always been a pessimist. Maybe, but I’ve always thought I’m just being realistic.
Particularly this time, I hope I’m really wrong.
