I remember the first time I said to someone, “That was more than twenty years ago.” The event we were discussing is lost to me now. But the weirdness of realizing I was old enough to have had something happen to me more than twenty years ago was tangible. How had so much time passed? Why wasn’t I aware of it? And more importantly, what have I been doing all these years?
There is actually a decent amount of research out there about time and how we perceive it. Some of it is quite scientific, while some is less so. But all of it is fascinating: who’d have thought someone could change how she experiences time?
I read a book about it a couple of years ago called The Power of Time Perception and I remember a few things from it. Mainly that routine and the ruts it can drive one into tend to make us feel as if time has slipped away. To “slow” down time, the author claimed, one needed to change things up from time to time if not even day to day.
There’s way more to it than just that, of course, but certainly that makes sense. Routines (or habits) are important; they allow us to get things done without diverting too much mental effort. I get up and I automatically, without thinking, brush my teeth and retainers. Then I weigh myself and wander to the kitchen to take my vitamins and drink my first sixteen ounces of water. These actions could almost happen in my sleep, they are that ingrained.
On the one hand, that’s great: brushing one’s teeth, taking some vitamins, and hydrating are healthy habits. On the other hand, however, anything I do automatically is something I do without thinking about it. So essentially for that first ten minutes or so of the day I’m on autopilot and largely not aware of what I’m doing. In other words, I’m not present. Not being present, mentally, means time is passing and I’m not even noticing.
For ten minutes or so, that’s okay. But if nearly everything I do in my day is a habit or routine that is simply running its course, then it becomes obvious that I’m going to drift through the hours and not even know it. I never really thought about it before I read that book and to tell the truth, have kind of forgotten about it until just recently. Now I’m thinking: I’ve got to get going with this!
On my favorite blog, raptitude.com, David writes frequently about the importance of mindfulness when it comes to dealing with life’s vicissitudes. Be it personal issues, financial instability, or overcoming procrastination, he stresses the necessity of living the moments of your life with attention.
Amazingly, I so often simply don’t. I do what I’ve always done in a given situation or copy what those around me do. Thinking is shockingly lacking in many of the hours of my days. That mindfulness itself can slow one’s perception of time certainly seems sensible. If routine, habit, and automaticity kill time, shouldn’t their opposites preserve it?
The answer is certainly yes, at least for me. As David writes here, many of us adults spend most of our time in our heads. What time is it? Can I finish this project today? Will I be able to stop at the store before traffic gets bad? What if the kids have a lot of homework tonight and need my help? I’ll have to record Schitt’s Creek. Is there enough room on the DVR? I didn’t even get to watch that movie from last night! What else have I recorded that I haven’t gotten to see? Et cetera.
That’s where some of my time goes; how about you? With that kind of action distracting my brain, is it any wonder that by the time I shake loose from it thirty or more minutes has disappeared? How often does such mental wandering happen during the day? Probably a lot.
Let’s do some math. Suppose I fall into the mental gymnastics described above at least once per waking hour (certainly a conservative estimate). And, let’s assume I actually get enough sleep and therefore experience at most seventeen waking hours (again, conservative). Even if only ten minutes is lost to such ruminations per hour, that’s still nearly three hours of a day that are lost to eternity. So every eight days I would lose an entire twenty four hour period to nothingness. That’s forty five days a year! And remember, that’s assuming I only spend ten minutes per hour worrying and otherwise living in my head. It’s probably more than that.
Losing time in that way is like shortening each year by a month and a half. And although that is an over simplification of the concepts of time perception, it’s still undeniable. Who would be willing to give up forty five days a year if asked? To cut their lives short so thoughtlessly? If someone could rob you of those days and tried to hold you up for them, would we just give them up like a pocketful of loose change?
Probably not. I imagine a fight would ensue in such a situation. Who knows what could happen in those forty five days? You could write a novel; build a house; travel to another continent. No one would give it up willingly. But we do give it up. One day at a time. In incremental segments. Without even thinking about it.
So without changing anything else in my life except simply realizing that mindlessness is expensive, time is already reframed. I imagine that my days could become more vivid and meaningful if I truly instigate enough variety to push at least some of the mental fretting aside. All the research I’ve cited above indicates it’s definitely worth a try.
It’s only the second of my eight and a half weeks of summer break. When school starts again in August and I don’t feel like my time off evaporated into oblivion, I’ll know if this stuff works.
Update since writing this:
I have found a new book that teaches how to live a more rewarding life and extend time in the process: The Comfort Crisis by Michael Easter. Highly recommended!