One Apple A Day #1202

Enough time.

Shelf Clock (c. 1937) by Ulrich Fischer. Original from The National Gallery of Art. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel.

In the last seven days, I didn't have enough time to attend a one-hour webinar on a subject I'm genuinely interested in. And I found enough time to go on a trip with four friends to work on a new project I deeply care about.

So, in the last few days, I've observed my relationship with time.

How much time do I have? What makes it enough for some things and not for others? How come I find it easier to carve out big chunks of time than small bits in my agenda? And why do I feel that some people have way more time than me?

Ultimately, the amount of time we all have in one day, week or month is fixed. It's always the same.

Enough, however, is a very subjective measure.

It has nothing to do with what we objectively have.

It's not about the measurable amount of anything.

It's about our relationship with it.

Time is just a container. One that seems rigid from the outside but very flexible from the inside.

If what we put inside makes us uncomfortable, time shrinks and becomes suffocating. If we love whatever we put into that container, it expands it.

I remember when my sister or my nephews were toddlers. I always loved feeding them. It was fun.

When you give toddlers something they love, they will stretch their mouths open as much as possible, ready to feel the pleasure. But if you try to feed them something they loathe, their lips close up, making the mouth very narrow or sealing it completely. Even if you're giving them the healthier food in the world.

My agenda does the same. And it's a visceral thing that has nothing to my reasoning. If there is not enough time for something my head considers important, I need to check with my heart and guts.