We're told time marches on. Let's reset the clock.
I’ve always been a punctual person. But living in London has forced me to think about time in a more focused way. I’ve had to, otherwise I’d always be missing my train.
A few years ago, I lived opposite one of the UK’s busiest train stations, Clapham Junction. My commute to work meant I had to catch one of just three trains an hour. I knew that timetable better than I knew how long it took to cook a hard-boiled egg. At the greatest pinch, I could dash from my front door, down the stairs, across the road, through a turnstile, up another staircase and inbetween two closing doors in under 30 seconds. And, what is hard to believe in these current times, trains used to run on time.
I would have missed a lot more trains if it wasn’t for this:
Prior to my door dashing way of life, the last time I had worn a digital watch with the seconds on display was when the same watch had a calculator that I could use in maths class. In efforts to appear more grown up, I’ve owned various ‘adult’ watches over the years; analog, with more minimalist designs. But that was before seconds became oh-so-important once again.
There’s plenty of detail on this watch. The date, heartrate (which disturbingly tells me that the wooden ship my watch sits on lives on 84bpm), the steps I’ve taken in a day, battery percentage remaining, and of course the time.
All of which march relentlessly forward. In their own way, each reminds me to maintain momentum, to progress. How many steps have I got done today? When do I need to charge my watch? When is my next train? What’s next?
Time in this realm is linear. It focuses on moving me forward.
The second most viewed timepiece in my life is rather different. And it looks like this:
Anyone who’s met me, knows that it won’t take long for me to tell you that I’m South African. Not much longer than it takes to open my mouth, I suppose. But you’ll be pleased to know that, aesthetic preferences aside, this clock reminds me of a lot more than just home. For one simple reason.
It’s circular.
As long as I remember to change the batteries once every 3 years that little dogged seconds hand will tick surprisingly loudly round, and round, and round, and round.
It unfailingly makes its way up to the ‘12’ mark, but doesn’t look for ‘13’. It moves smoothly along to ‘1’, then ‘2’, then ‘3’, then - well, you know how a clock works. Time in this realm is cyclical. It’s less concerned about the relentless forward march of time. It takes a moment to reset, before it begins again.
The more I look around my everyday experience, the more I realise the cyclical nature of what surrounds me.
The sun goes down, and then it rises again (even in the UK).
Spring follows Winter, and is followed by Summer, which is followed by Autumn, which brings us back to Winter again.
We’ve all just flipped the calendar from December to January. And will do so again in 11 months’ time.
The process of resetting surrounds our experience in this life.
Yet, often in western culture, we’ve indoctrinated ourselves into thinking that a linear approach always means progress.
We are born, we live, and then we die. There is a beginning, a middle and an end. We presuppose that everything has a purpose. And we are constantly working towards a pre-determined goal. We fix ourselves in a state of forward.
In religion, one might strive towards heaven as that ultimate goal. In art, towards perfection. The science, we fixate on absolute knowledge.
Progress lies at the heart of much of western thought. And it has undeniably proved beneficial to many humans as a result. Over history things have gotten better for the vast majority of humankind despite what news reports would constantly have you believe.
But a focus on progress has made as self-centred. We focus on our achievements in order to justify this progress. We emphasise output over process. And we create output-driven economies as a result. There is little space for nuance in an output-driven world because the goal matters most. Economic growth becomes the primary measure of what we are told we should take note of in order to feel secure.
I know nothing about farming. But I’ve been lucky enough to meet a few farmers in my time. And they are consistently some of the most stoic people I have come across. The farming community recognises that life is cyclical. It has to.
Things are born, they live, they die, and they are turned into something else. Fuel for another living being within that small community. Farmers exist at the whim of the seasons, and the weather; elements that they know are beyond their control. One day is not better than another, it’s just a different day where new things need to get done. The reset, and they go again.
Eastern philosophy is often associated with the theory of reincarnation:
Reincarnation is the religious or philosophical belief that the soul or spirit, after biological death, begins a new life in a new body that may be human, animal or spiritual depending on the moral quality of the previous life's actions.
I don’t know if we come back as something else in a spiritual sense. But I do know that life will go on beyond my time here.
In this cyclical world, humans are a part of nature, not the end purpose. We are forced to accept our fate within a vast, uncontrollable passing of time.
When I view time as cyclical, and the process of resetting as natural, it reduces the pressure of worrying about the future. It slows down the march of forward.
In a cyclical world, one in which we are able to reset, I can focus on the process, not the outcome. If things didn’t pan out the way I wanted yesterday, I have a chance today to correct them. The process matters more than the end result.
It is good to have goals. It is good to be motivated towards those goals. But life is about more than just living in one gear.
Time is what make of it. We can use it to carry us forward. And we can use it to reset, and slow us down.
By looking at my digital watch, with its important seconds display reminding me of how fast I need to run to make my train, I can live life in forward gear.
But I can change that gear when I hear the tick of my South African flag clock, as I read in the morning, a cup of ginger and lemon water steaming alongside me. The passage of time may be inevitable, but I have more control over its passing when I pay attention to it.
Laozi, a central figure in Chinese culture, and generally considered the founder of philosophical and religious Taoism in the East, knew this when he said.
“Time is a created thing. To say ‘I don’t have time’ is like saying, ‘I don’t want to.”
When you check this time this week, what gear will you choose?