Calling Time

When I start to reflect and think about the week, often on a Thursday morning when I'm sweating it out doing an early morning workout, a theme often bubbles to the surface.

This week, I have become increasingly aware, and concerned about, a phenomenon that seems to be creeping into our lives.

I didn't even realise it was a 'thing' until a comment popped up on my FBLive (a regular Tuesday 8.15am ten minute check in with a good friend, as part of our SoulBalance Mussar project).

Anna commented; "Interested in the idea of striving to achieve more - is that really the aim, does more bring us more fulfilment or does our to-do list just expand even more?"

And there it was - the little bursting of the assumption bubble that there is so much to do, and we must do as much as we can, and the work is hard and the day is short -to quote Rabbi Tarfon (Pirkei Avot 2:15).

This week, I have increasingly noticed just how frazzled not only I am, but also my friends; women in a similar age bracket to me, holding down jobs, dealing with family demands, generally picking up the pieces. We are juggling so so much, and very rarely even think about finding time for ourselves, let alone create it.

I asked a friend if she's free for lunch today, She replied that she's woken up with a banging headache and needs to lie in a dark room for the morning. I'm convinced it's her body (as mine does) saying, "NOW will you just stop please?!?!"

Another friend told me earlier in the week that she had accidentally run a red light because she just wasn't paying attention to her driving, too engrossed in thoughts about everything going on. She's now worried she'll get a ticket. I said I was grateful she wasn't in a horrific accident. It really frightened me. It probably really frightened her too, but she can't allow herself to worry about herself too much as so many people are in need of her support right now.

Last night, I arrived half an hour late for Bookclub (that I was meant to be hosting), because I'd got the time wrong in my head; I had been so busy in that crucial "post-school - afterschool activities - dinner - sort the kids out" that occurs *every* day during termtime, that I rushed around, trying to squeeze it all in, smugly arriving what I thought was a couple of minutes early, only to have my stomach drop to the floor when I realised I was interrupting the discussion in full flow.

I could go on and on. Thank goodness we share. These small anecdotes between friends, none of which amount to something huge, collectively all point to a creeping, disturbing pace of life.

I used to love Kipling's poem "If", particularly the conclusion:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Now I read these words and see so much that's wrong with it (without even going there about the gendered ending).

No, No, 100 times, NO!

How much more can we fit in to sixty seconds? How much quicker has communication become since Kipling's time (only 100 years ago), where, within one minute we could easily download 30 emails, receive far too many WhatsApp notifications on various group and individual chats, and also field a phone call from a child asking you to bring their trainers for PE in half an hour. And that's not even looking at our own to-do list.

I'm particularly noticing this in my own circles, with women, but I'm sure, in fact I know, its not only a female thing - Caitlin Moran wrote a long article in last weekend's Times magazine, and has just published a book called "What About Men?" looking at exactly this.

I'm calling time.

Interesting phrase - to call time on it.

Time is exactly the issue, and maybe it's exactly the solution too.

We learn from Rabbi Tarfon (quoted earlier) as he continues in the next verse:

"It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it" (Pirkei Avot 2:16)

The balance he is calling for is striking. I hadn't noticed that before.

Yes, sure, there is work, and we can't neglect it. Our loved ones need us, our skills are put to work making the world a better place, and if we've committed to doing something, I truly believe it's important to stick to it.

However, Rabbi Tarfon is telling us that it's never all going to be completed. Anna's comment on Facebook also pointed out the same reality check. And what harm are we doing to ourselves in the meantime, even trying to fill every unforgiving minute?

It is unforgiving, isn't it?

What Kipling doesn't tell us about is the second minute, and the third minute, and the fourth... how long is it really sustainable to fill each minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run? I worry for my friends that there's going to be a horrific car accident, or our blood pressure is so high we're at risk of an imminent heart attack (like Caitlin Moran's husband was), or we seriously let down a loved one in that critical moment when they really need us (rather than being told off for not having their trainers).

How many seconds in every unforgiving minute should we protect for space, for pause, for a bit of slack in the system?

Perhaps that's for each of us to decide individually, according to our circumstances and according to our need.

Perhaps then, each minute may be a little more forgiving, our time a little more balanced, and our wellbeing a little more in focus in the process.