And in the morning
He dress and go to hell.
All activated by
A little timer bell.
-Spin Doctors Forty or Fifty
While putting Hallie to bed a little while back, I began to muse about what life milestone really marks the death knell of the fun of childhood. Two ideas came to mind (and one promptly turned around and left. Maybe I should muse on what marks old age, eh?)
Hallie’s world is so different from mine because she is not yet a slave to the clock. Infants don’t schedule their lives around what time it is. They don’t wake up to the sound of a jarring alarm clock: they wake up when they wake up. They don’t eat at a regular time: they eat when they’re hungry. What we experience as 30 minutes of playtime, she experiences as a virtual hour of fun.
While I was unemployed I had the chance to relive life unbound from the artificial stresses of time. At least to some degree, anyway; everyone has their committments. It was a refreshing break to say the least.
We are so rigid with the parceling out of minutes and days. You must work at least 40 hours a week. We must be at work by nine o’clock. Dinner will start promptly at 6 PM.
The third millennium is so much different than the second one.
Sorry, don’t have time for the gym tonight.
Just don’t have the time.
Where does the time go? Does it ever really get here?
I came across a serendipitous article today in the local Business Leader magazine. It sums up my thoughts very well:
For almost all of human existence, time was measured by the calender, not the clock. We charted our lives by the moon, the sun, the seasons, and the migration of the animals. Almost all of the noises and sounds to which we are accustomed did not exist for our great-grandparents. And almost all have to do with transportation, communication and time – getting you and/or your information to someone else on time.
Just think, quietly for a moment, about the stress in your life. How much of it is caused by time? Bedtime, alarm clock, rush hour, appointments, meetings, time clocks, etc. You’re scheduling, or worse, someone else is scheduling, your life around time.
Well, in our little world which we have created for ourselves, we certainly can’t do without accurate time, but it might do you some good to remember it doesn’t really exist. We made it all up. So, some quiet peaceful morning, say to yourself, “Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?” Then, for a while, just be. You’ll find it refreshing.
Next week, the little girl who’s world knows no time will turn one year old. We’ll throw her a big party, cheering her on as her first birthday becomes her initiation into the world of time, one from which she may never escape. Soon she’ll be scurrying from one place to another, beckoned by the hands of the clock.
I hope she’ll be smart enough to take her eyes off her watch once in a while and simply enjoy life.