Time: A means to an end?

The other day, a group of students showed up at the bookstore, wanting to interview someone on the topic of success. They had two questions to ask: What is success, and by your definition, are you successful? The timeliness of their questions about success struck me later as I drove home, still pondering my own answers. A group of church members has been considering the subject of time over the past few weeks. Each of us, from different perspectives and for different reasons, have come to this weekly gathering, hoping, at least in part, to gain some sense of anchoring around the concept of time. Not to my surprise, the more tuned in to time I have become in these weeks, the more ephemeral time seems to have become. As one group member suggested, “It’s like trying to hold on to sand. The tighter my grip, the faster the grains escape between my fingers.”

In our world, time is closely woven with notions of success and productivity. For years, my greatest asset, in my own eyes, was my discipline around time. Depending on the season, a 5:30 wake up began a day that was packed to the gills with every kind of activity from work to pleasure. And, most often, these spheres would overlap. Always, though, there was productivity, something to show for my day whether it was an assignment completed, a scrapbook made, or items checked off the “to do” list for the upcoming charity event. It is interesting how small seeds are planted. I remember very well when my Hebrew teacher told me that the finished product of my translating was not the most important part of my work in her class. Instead, it was the process of translating that I should pay better attention to. Working with the text was a prayer in and of itself, not to be regarded as a means to an end and, certainly, not just another item to tick off my list.

The years I spent in South Africa marked a dramatic shift in my productivity and need for multitasking. At first, I tried to project my own conceptions of time onto the structures and people in my new community. I had clear goals in my mind and a path to achieving them. As the months passed and I honored my own expectations pertaining to time, I discovered that I was missing out on whole pieces of the culture and people that I was among. My time management and the rhythm of the community seemed to be mutually exclusive. If I wanted to move deeper into the fullness of my surroundings, I needed to loosen my schedule. I needed to let go of my need for productivity so that I could experience the life that was happening around me. If I didn’t allow myself to depart, at least every once-in-a-while, from the events I had planned, I was going to miss the moments that would be most transformative.

More importantly, with my attention split in multiple directions, I had a nagging sense that I wasn’t completely honoring the person or family that I had set out to care for. Their illness or loss was at the center of their world, but, for me, it was one of quite a few concerns that I was trying to balance. What I noticed was that I was only able to give my full focus when I made the choice to be engaged. Being present was an active decision, and I had to remember it to make the choice, not just once, but from moment to moment.

Years of social construction have instilled very deeply in me the need to use my time wisely and a drive to keep pushing for the next item on my list. When I have been given reason to pause, I have been humbled enough to see that my need for productivity is strangely self-centered. In a way, I know that I will never be able to fully move beyond it. Nonetheless, as I was trained to think and act in one way, new training over time can set a slightly different course for me. My definition of success has changed over the last few years, and I imagine it will continue to evolve as my training in practices of spirituality and holiness continues. For this, I am grateful.