How I'm Learning to Respect (and Tame) the Time Tyrant

Lessons from a hospital stint and a book by Oliver Burkeman

Pexels photo by Enrique Zafra

The day I realized what a controlling beast time is changed my life.

I was just 20, in a hospital ward recovering from surgery.

Surrounded by people with arms and legs in slings and traction.

And a woman who, at home, slept on chairs.

One of the patients was back for the third time, fast running out of limbs to break.

The woman slept on chairs because arthritis made it too painful to sleep in a bed.

They were all at least 30 years older than me.

And seemed fairly resigned to their fates.

Relaxed about how much time they had left.

Reading magazines, chatting with nurses, and seeing visitors filled their days.

They didn’t appear to be in a hurry to leave the ward.

It made me wonder how life at home was for them.

Why they didn’t rail against their restricted lives.

Sure, meals were laid on. (But, yes, they were hospital-grade).

No one had to go to work.

Families visited and were friendly and caring.

We all had a lot of time.

But that’s exactly why I couldn't wait to get out of there.

Time was ticking by. And, because I was trapped, I felt time controlled me.

This was not how I wanted to spend my time.

I was defiant about escaping.

And tried everything the staff offered to help me recover quickly.

It took a long time to get there, but finally I was out and free again.

Facing down time

I’ll never forget how I felt in there.

Even though I was relatively young, I was acutely aware of how I was wasting time.

And I quickly realized that I could no longer be cavalier about how much time I had left.

I saw how easy it is to get into a situation with a lot of time but little freedom.

And how normal everyone seemed to feel that was.

Sickness, chronic disease—what’s a tragically normal life for many.

Just like in the story of the young prince who became the Buddha, I hadn’t seen much of death or illness before this.

So seeing it saddened me but also made me bold.

I saw how random life could be.

And I made decisions from that bed that took me on a new trajectory.

Being trapped by time was the ticking bomb that did it.

Another way time traps you

In later decades, I found out that time can trap you in other ways too.

One insidious one is letting you think that you can outrun it.

You can become more productive. You can squeeze more into an hour. You can hack time.

But don’t be fooled.

Time always wins the race.

And you’ll be the one who collapses at the finishing line while time streaks ahead endlessly.

Because it’s been on this marathon forever.

There’s no way you’ll catch it.

So now, when I’m stressed or in a hurry, I often think about respecting time more.

And I choose to chill or slow down to give time back to myself.

To reclaim time as my servant, not my bossypants.

To briefly claim the illusion of being in charge here in this one short, amazing life that time has granted me.

Time and how to use it

Today I’m reading “Four Thousand Weeks” by Oliver Burkeman.

It’s a witty, brilliant book of musings about time. He examines it from every angle imaginable.

And gives insights and advice on how to best use time to create a life of meaning and satisfaction.

No, thankfully, this is far from being another productivity book.

His message is more subtle and urgent.

Burkeman’s words are bittersweet now that I know, for sure, I have limited time left.

Because he dares to savour time while acknowledging its ultimate victory.

Timely and worthwhile lessons

Here are some of my favourite takeaways from the book:

1. We each get, on average, about 4000 weeks in a lifetime.

   Newsflash! Time is limited.

   So let's get real here. No productivity tool or morning routine will ever make you feel that you’ve finally arrived and got it all done.

   Prioritize what gives meaning to your life because you’ll never have time for everything.

2. Efficiency isn’t the only goal. You might get more done, then find that the goalposts have shifted and now there's more to do.
   Instead of aiming to be more efficient, become comfortable with anxiety and FOMO. You can't have every experience and achievement because they’re limitless, and your time isn’t.

   Enjoy the present moment as it is, knowing that you chose to spend it this way over all other possibilities.

3. Procrastinate better by doing the work you value most first. Limit your work in progress. Then you’ll never neglect to start what truly matters and will finish a few things rather than abandon many.

   You have to fully commit to some things you want to do. And say no to others (especially those that you do want to do).

   Have fewer priorities, but enjoy completing them.

4. We’re wired for distraction. And it’s an easy slide to give our attention to something less challenging. But doing meaningful work takes focus. Be aware that distraction is part of the business model of some apps, so avoiding their allure isn’t easy.

   Accept that distractions are powerful, and that succumbing to them is not evidence of your weakness.

5. Go against the grain of a culture obsessed with productivity, disguised as self-improvement and accomplishment. Learn from other cultures, the pandemic, and the wisdom of the past. Value staying mindful, patient, and present. Self-reflection helps you understand your values and what holds meaning for you.

   Cultivate acceptance and presence to find contentment in life.

Spending time well

Mastering time is not so much about railing against it or managing it. It’s learning to accept that you can set the relationship you have with time.

It can be a fight.

Or it can be based on recognition and respect.

Like any mature relationship.

To conclude, Burkeman quotes Carl Jung’s advice on how to spend time and live well,

One lives as one can. There is no single, definite way…quietly do the next and most necessary thing…if you do the next and most necessary thing, you are always doing something meaningful and intended by fate.

I figure that I could do a lot worse than adopting this advice for attempting “the next and most necessary thing.”

It implies a simple, uncluttered, unstressed, serial way of spending time.

In a way that doesn’t overwhelm you.

But doesn’t waste time.

It doesn’t restrict you.

But assumes you’re aware of time.

It reflects your choices and path.

But doesn’t mean you get to do everything.

You end up satisfied with what you did fit into your time here.

And lose the regret for all the things you didn’t get to do.

Not a superproductive superhero machine, no.

But a contented, if limited, human being.