Marking the Passage of Time

I recently had dinner with a good friend of mine, who just purchased a fitness watch of sorts that tracks his daily activity (number of steps, sedentary time, etc). He told me that, according to his perception, when he is engrossed in one activity or another, the watch beeps every 15 minutes to remind him to get up and move around, whereas, in reality, the watch is actually beeping every hour. I can relate to this perceived versus actual passage of time, and it occurs to me that the difference can be very useful, in terms of maximizing or minimizing the passage of time, all depending on the objective. For example, during the day, when I am working, I take a sip of water every 15 minutes to create an awareness of the passage of time, thereby maximizing my use of it. On the other hand, at the gym, on the treadmill, I take a sip of water every 5 minutes to convert my own internal accounting of time from seconds or minutes to 5 minute intervals to minimize how long it 'feels' like I am walking. This is just a restatement of several old adages - specifically, preserving time, as in "time lost is never found" from Benjamin Franklin, and preserving experience, as in "the time you enjoyed wasting is not wasted time" by Bertrand Russell - but I wonder how many of us actually devise appropriate, self-directed units of time to either slow things down or speed things up. You can be present in the moment to savor every second, or you can track broader milestones to fold the time in between. In The Thin Red Line, Private Witt (Jim Caviezel's character) lives in the second-by-second beauty of nature (flowers, birds, etc) that surrounds him on the battlefield; in Cast Away, Chuck Noland (Tom Hanks' character) lives in the day-by-day activity required to feed his body and stay alive; in The Shawshank Redemption, Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins' character) lives in the month-by-month activity to feed his soul and truly live. There is a case for savoring every second no matter what your circumstance, so I am not suggesting an outright folding of time, ala the movie Click, where Michael Newman (Adam Sandler's character) transports himself into the future through a magical remote control, and ends up missing the majority of his life. That being said, being aware of and influencing your perception of time can be a great way to be savor beautiful seconds or withstand challenging moments, which can offer a modicum of comfort where there is none.

Incredible, Simultaneous, Reciprocity

Unless you are a Physicist, and a Quantum Physicist at that, you are probably unfamiliar with 'entangled particles', which are particles that remain connected so that actions performed on one affect the other, even when separated by great distances. As one particle enters a downward spin, the other particle enters an upward swing, and this is said to occur at 10,000 times the speed of light (i.e. instantaneously) regardless of the distance. I believe this behavior extends beyond particles to the hearts and minds and souls of two people. When one is about to send a message and is preemptively messaged; when one is about to call and is preemptively called; when one is about to express an inner-most thought that is preemptively expressed; when one is about to kiss and is preemptively kissed; when one falls in love and is preemptively loved. To the extent that entangled particles defy our understanding of the world, I see no reason to doubt the existence of entangled souls: Two souls that spin for each other and maintain a balance in the universe that goes beyond the purview of the world we see, into the world we feel. Look for it in your life. It might already be there.

Love

It comes from many sources, but the one I covet the most is the one that two strangers happen upon and are swept away by. Why? Because there are no genetic predispositions or built-in bonds of affection. Because it is a matter of choice, right up until it is no longer a matter of choice but a matter of 'need'. To choose to need. This is the pinnacle of Love, because it exposes one to a risk that was not there in the past, need not be here in the present, and may be there in the future: To lose the one you need. What greater risk than to lose the one you love, the one you need? Perhaps, a better question: What greater risk than to not love this way at all?

Fast, Efficient and Correct ... Still, Something is Missing

When I am working in New York City, I frequent a fairly large, 24/7, eatery and grocery for breakfast, and am utterly amazed by the speed and efficiency with which the place and its people operate. I place my order for an omelette at the grill, where the short-order cook appears to be juggling 15 other orders, and within 5 minutes I am presented with my to-go box. I get in line to pay behind 25 other people, and within 5 minutes I am at the register being handed a receipt while, simultaneously, the cashier is already raising her hand for the next person to approach. As I exit, I am struck by the army of people exiting with me (a veritable exodus, you might say), and the army of entering through the adjacent door. The whole thing is a satisfactory model of efficiency. A model that only requires a modicum of queuing theory knowledge to appreciate that, given the inflow of people, anything less would result in exceeding the 'fire code' threshold number of occupants. 

And yet, this model of efficiency still leaves something to be desired. 

It lacks a fundamental aspect of what you might encounter (at least, what I infer you might encounter) at a similar venue in Japan: delight, or, in Japanese, 'yorokobi' (I think). 

While I am duly impressed by the efficiency of the place, it is this very efficiency that gives me pause, as there is nary a smile, "hello", "how are you doing?" that comes your way as you are shuffled down the assembly line. I imagine that a type-A / Wall Street-type might actually be annoyed with salutations and rhetorical questions as they rush towards the rush, so I imagine that this is learned, if not imparted, behavior, which cannot be blamed on the establishment itself. It is, however, an interesting question to grapple with as we strive towards ever-greater efficiency: 

Where do we draw the line between efficiency (getting things done fast) and expediency (being efficient at the expense of other, important things). 

Should we optimize humanity subject to efficiency? 

Or should we optimize efficiency subject to humanity? 

Knowing Something about Someone

When someone unexpectedly knows something about someone, it is, to that someone, an inspiring surprise indeed. Some of the best leaders I've worked with had less command of the business and more command of people behind the business: their names (first and foremost), families, recent events, motivators, etc. This is why technocrats can hardly complete against politicians, as evidenced by Theodore Roosevelt, when he said "People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care". Of course, no one likes a smart ass who simply recites facts that they gleaned from an online profile, so this is more about deep and unexpected knowledge than surface facts, and the only way to glean that kind of information is to really care about knowing something about someone.

The Constant Pause

It is good to have a firm grasp on the realities of reality, even at a young age, despite the fact that we grow up with fables, but, to the extent that perception is reality, we can also teach and have a bit of poetic license with the facts. What one might see as a disaster or betrayal, another might see as a test or cry for help. Therein lies the notion of the 'constant pause'. The beauty of being in a constant state of meditation is the ever-present micro-second you have before witnessing an occurrence in the world and interpreting what it means. To me, that micro-second is the difference between happiness and sadness. It highlights the power of choice. You may not be able to control what goes on in the world, but you can control what goes on in your world: the universe within. It is a matter of choosing to place people and events in a context that is broad enough to stitch them together in a more meaningful fabric, rather than seeing things as raw transactions in a cold, unyielding world. This is not a new concept. It is core to many philosophies and personal stories of survival and success. Still, it is not, as far as I can tell, something that many of us actively practice or teach. We are often times too far into the world to look down upon it. It is hard to read the map while you are in the map. So the next time you feel as though you are going to have 'a moment', try to have a micro-second first ;-)

Exact Change

If you are old enough to remember actually buying something with cash, you probably have run into the situation where you have something like a 5 and 10 dollar bill on you, but the item you’re buying costs $5.01! In lieu of having that extra penny, you hand the cashier a 10 dollar bill, and get back 4 grams worth of dollar bills and 36.5 grams worth of coins. This is quite a weighty burden. One that the mind rejects, but must often accept upon registering the completely non-empathetic look on the cashier’s face. (Again, if you are old enough, you may recall a time when the cashier would happily spot you that penny.) Upon receiving your change, your mind might have an ever-so-brief moment of euphoria, as, indeed, you do have a penny!  But it is only as a result of not having exact change that you find yourself in possession of that newly acquired penny.

So it is in life: The lessons we learn from the mistakes we make are no cause for celebration for the things we break.

Your mind may experience a brief moment of euphoria to the contrary, and your mind may, at times, be correct – there are, of course, times when it is not too late to learn from one’s mistakes and salvage the life we know. But beware: Sometimes it is the absolute sacrifice of the life we know that brings us the most salient and poignant lessons, and these can only be applied to the future. The very thing you miss by virtue of nostalgia, the very thing you want to return to, is no longer there. To return to what is no longer there, in hopes of applying the very lessons that were born of its very death, is a futile exercise indeed, so it is worth a little time and reflection before looking into the reflection of time; especially time past.