Countless Hours

I remember working at an office years ago and thinking how slow time used to tick by. It moved at a snail’s pace, and to keep from boredom, I’d challenge myself to not look at the clock on the wall every ten or twenty minutes. Even when I was tempted to, I’d tell myself to wait, that the next time I looked at it, it’d be lunch time.

This was when smart phones didn’t exist yet, when most of my workday involved handling papers and folders and desktop computers and CRT monitors were still a thing. The days seemed to drag on as if they would never end. Yet, here I am, over ten years later, and those days at the office are like a blink in my memory.

In those days when I didn’t have a smart phone to check my email or open up apps, I had to dwell my thoughts, dwell on what I had been reading or on something I had heard on the radio. I would dwell so deeply that I often began to forget about time and became fixated on a singular thought. Those countless hours past a little faster, and each day became a challenge to busy my mind with what I considered creatively or intellectually stimulating.

In hindsight, those countless hours were merely a reflection of my perception of time. Time is experienced based on how much we participate in an event or how little we do. When we’re bored, we’re waiting for something to happen: waiting to be entertained, engaged, or to react to whatever comes our way.

An hour can feel like a full day when we have nothing to do. But when we’re engaged or working on something that’s new and challenging, an hour can feel like a few minutes. In that moment, time is less thought of, and the moment itself becomes paramount compared to the seconds that tick by.

Fixing Things

When editing an essay or a story, we’ll rewrite a passage, delete it, add to it, and every time we do, it’s not the same as it was before. That’s the ironic thing about working on a creative work rather than something that’s technical, such as a DIY project or a car. Creative works do not lend themselves to one right answer, whereas technical things usually do.

To get a story right, it requires multiple drafts, proofreading, and each stage does not depend on an equation or a formula, but a “sense” or “feeling” of what is right to us. In other words, we rely on our intuition and experience rather than a systematic procedure that leads to a single solution. We fix a story based on what sounds right to our ears, what makes sense in our mind, even though others might see flaws and imperfections where we see harmony and balance.

Working on a story can last for days, months, even years depending on when we’re ready to call it done. The number of things to fix continue to grow, and it seems that the editing process will never end. Even if readers tell us that the story is great, that everything works, we might not be convinced if it doesn’t meet our expectations and what our vision demands. We could go on forever fixing things even if it’s perfectly fine in everyone else’s eyes. Or we might think it’s fine when others see glaring errors or mistakes.

After we’ve finished the last draft, we have it proofread, and fix all the things that were addressed during the critique. We can be content with the published work even if readers catch minor errors or don’t agree with every aspect of the story. Besides, it can’t be perfect in everyone’s eyes.

Reading on a Rainy Day

Reading on a rainy day is different from most other days. For example, on a sunny day, there’s incentive to go outside, to travel, and to socialize. We’d rather enjoy the weather, go to the beach, or to enjoy a day of hiking rather than to stay inside.

Even on a cloudy day, we can still enjoy the weather. Despite the drabiness the gray weather brings to the forest or city, the temperature might be cool, pleasant. There’s still opportunity in the outdoors.

But on a rainy day, putting on a jacket, grabbing the umbrella, or driving on the wet roads can be a hassle. And to do any sort of outdoor activity would be out of the question unless there is some urgency to it.

Thus, on a rainy day, books beckon us to open them. Safe and dry from the rain, we leaf through the pages without noticing the minutes and hours that pass. As the rain trickles down the windows and leaves, our mind can be elsewhere: in a far off galaxy, in a world of dragons and mages, in a different part of the globe, or in a different time period.

The rain no longer rings in our ears. A whole world has opened before us–a world in which space and time has a different reality from our own.

Reading Only Words

When we can’t focus, reading a page from a book is like reading only the words. We can’t picture what we’re reading, put things into context, nor wrap our mind around the ideas. In fact, we don’t even pick up on them. It’s like each word is a separate sentence–distinct from the other words that come before or after them.

I’m sure all of us have been here before. Whether it’s when we stayed up late to study for a test, or when we’ve started a book that we have no interest in reading. None of the sentences or paragraphs register in our brain. In fact, it’s like our working memory isn’t running at all. We are reading without understanding.

We might as well be reading a page of random words. It would make no difference. The only way reading can be beneficial is when we’re focused, engaged, and curious. When we are contemplating, visualizing, or questioning the merits of the ideas or the story. If our mind isn’t an active participate in the text, reading has no meaning.

Technically Speaking

Technically speaking is another way of saying, “Well, actually . . .” Or to put it another way, giving the exact value of a figure or estimate.

A driver might say that he/she drove the speed limit on the highway. But the passenger might say, “Well, technically speaking, you went over the speed limit by 5 to 10 miles per hour a few times.”

So why is it that we generalize or round up or round down when we talk about numbers rather than give the precise value?

Perhaps the “technical” answer isn’t as exciting, or maybe it’s unnecessary to read it out every time. For example, when we talk about salaries, we round up or down to the thousands place or ten-thousands place. We don’t read out every single digit (i.e. the average salary is $50,689.19 at so-so company). Instead, a general value provides the idea we need for the discussion without overcomplicating it. It gives a rough “stat” of the figure rather than to have the listener process every single digit, and thus, to lose their interest or attention.

It’s the same when talking about statistics, such as the average or the median. A number might be 6 or 7 digits long or have four decimal places, but we round to simplify it, to make it easier to grasp.

So although “technically speaking” might give us the accurate answer, it misses the point of the conversation. It’s not about the specs, but about simplifying a value into an idea that comes across with ease.

Stamina

Our stamina will eventually run out. We only have so much during the day. Just as we can only stay up so long before we fall asleep, we can only work so long before we burn out.

But we treat stamina as if it’s an unlimited resource. It’s why some people overwork themselves or push beyond their mind and body beyond their limits. Some might even put off taking a break, or having food and water to replenish their energy. They’ll keep going and going like the energizer bunny until they can barely stand or stay awake.

It’s as if they’re sacrificing their stamina for the sake of getting everything done. But at what cost?

More things get added on their to do list.. And to finish them up, they will sacrifice their stamina again. They’ll tell themselves that they will take a break once they’ve finished the last item. But first, they need to finish up work, then finish writing their emails, then finish their errands, then finish . . .

But it doesn’t ever end. They’ll drain their stamina again, and again, until it is all gone.

Losing Track of Time

Time flows differently when we put all of our concentration on a single task. It could be a book we’re writing, a meal we’re cooking, or when we’re building something. It’s as if only the goal before us exist, and time can place no limits on it.

We only become aware of time when we think about the time we have left. Time doesn’t tap us on the shoulder and tell us to check on the clock. Rather, it is the habit of schedules and deadlines that reminds us that time exists.

Of course, night and day make us aware of time. When it’s dark out, we know that we’ve come to certain hours of the day, and the same is true with daylight. And in between night and day, the world follows schedules that effect how we go to work, when we leave work, when the street lights come on, how long stores are open for, etc.

When we lose track of time, schedules cease to exist (at least in our mind). We might be in the zone, or we might be focused on trying to get something done before we eat or go to sleep. Losing track of time can be a benefit when we need long hours of concentration–hours of non-distraction. But it can be detrimental on a busy day, a day where we have many things to do.

And then there are those days where we lose track of time because we’re simply not cognizant enough to keep track of it. This can happen when we’re tired or burned out. Maybe there is a time limit to time. Perhaps there are times when we need not know of it.