We may not know where we're going, but we're sure getting there fast.

         Sometimes I hurry, driven by anxiety, "I don't have any time."  Wrapped up in my own drama, I forget to enjoy our endlessly fascinating world.  If I catch myself and take long, slow, deep breaths, I can sometimes exit this thought pattern and remember that I have plenty of time--24 hours a day, just like everyone else.

         At bedtime that day's morning seems long ago--so much has happened.  Yet the days, weeks, even years just fly past.

         Our time once was marked by cycles of sun, moon, and seasons.  Life was perhaps often difficult, but its rhythm was rooted in the natural world--there was no other way.  The concept of "a minute" didn't exist.  Since the advent of mechanical clocks, the pace of our lives has become increasingly attuned to the standards we design into our machines.

         Futurists in the 1950s predicted a "crisis of leisure," as machines would do our work and we'd have to figure out how to spend our time.  It didn't happen.

         Paradoxically, it seems the amount of free time we have is inversely proportional to the number of time-saving devices in our lives.

         In a remarkable book of autobiographical essays called "Travels," writer Michael Crichton says that our habitat of electronic media has evolved to "a pace that is utterly alien to our true natures.  It is bewildering to live in a world of ten-second spots, each one urging us to buy something, to do something, to think something.  Human beings in the past were not so assaulted."

         The very idea of "fast" food is a bit sick.  Eating is one of the supreme pleasures in life; food should be savored.  Digestion is much better when we chew thoroughly; this takes time.  Eating can remind us of our dependence on the natural world, as all food ultimately springs from the soil and water of Mother Earth warmed by the rays of Father Sun.  We should take time to give thanks.

     In his book "Time Wars," Jeremy Rifkin quotes historian and social philosopher Lewis Mumford as saying "the clock, not the steam engine, is the key machine of the modern age."  Rifkin says we're now attuning ourselves to the "nanosecond culture" of the computer.

         Upon hearing a recent high-court judgement against Microsoft, Bill Gates said it would "slow down the pace of innovation."  Personally, I think all the computer innovators should take a couple years off to relax in Hawaii or Tahiti, and give the rest of us a chance to catch our breath.

         Actually, an influential group of technology innovators has formed "The Long Now Foundation" (www.longnow.org), whose goal is to replace "faster/cheaper" with "slower/better" thinking.  Their strategy involves building a huge clock--the "Clock of the Long Now"--in the Nevada desert.  Designed by computer hardware pioneer Danny Hillis, this clock will be accurate for thousands of years.  It will "tick once a year, bong once a century, and the cuckoo comes out every millenium."

         "I know you're tired after work, but if you really want to learn the guitar you'll find time to practice."  Maybe.  At the same time, I really "should" take time to garden, recycle, compost, get enough sleep, communicate well with my spouse, stay informed on current affairs, write my elected representatives, exercise, read books, nurture family relationships, make new friends, go to career-building seminars, meditate, shop for and prepare healthy food, keep the house clean,
and floss my teeth.  Who can do it all?

         About a week into a camping/road trip, I noticed I'd been rushing the whole time, doing and seeing the most possible each day.  Unfortunately, I wasn't fully experiencing or enjoying much of it, since my mind was continually racing ahead to the next thing.  My life was so harried at the time, it took a full week just to slow down.

         We divide time into past, present, and future, but only the present is truly real.  We reflect on and learn from the past, plan for and anticipate the future, but can only experience life now.  As meditation teacher Jon Kabat-Zinn points out, when we miss our present moments, we miss life.

         Some people love their jobs, many don't.  Slogging away at a deadening job year after year is hard, no question.  The endurance of people is beyond belief.  I sometimes reflect on how hard it truly is, noticing the incredible risks some people take--burglars, con artists, and other criminals risk the hell of incarceration sometimes just to get easy money and avoid holding down a "straight job."

         Stressed-out employees might sometimes crave relaxation on tropical beaches, but this wouldn't satisfy most people for long.  Work is a basic human need on a par with food, shelter, and companionship.  "Jobs" don't necessarily have such exalted status; time and energy drained by jobs sometimes keeps us from our truest work in the world.

         Investment manager Peter Lynch trimmed back his career ambitions to live a more balanced life.  He was quoted as saying "I don't know of anyone who on their death bed said they wished they had spent more time at the office."

         In the age of "downsizing," many are subjected to steadily increasing job demands.  Usually, when being told to accomplish more in less time, I've noticed the directives are couched in new age terminology of "constant and never ending improvement" along with pearls of universal wisdom regarding efficiency--the implication being that if this workload is too much, the problem resides in the worker.

         Stress and hurry are harmful to health both directly and indirectly; it's ironic that most jobs in "health care" today--from doctors to nurse's aides--are characterized especially by their pace:  rush, rush, rush.  If health care lived up to its name, professionals would model healthy behavior for their clients.

         I'm 42.  According to the U.S. Center for Health Statistics, I have a remaining life expectancy of about 309,439 hours.  God willing, I plan to spend that time enjoying life while hopefully contributing to a better world.

         I've found there are two great "banks" from which I can withdraw free time.  First, television:  I do miss some great programs, but completely avoiding TV opens up vast space in my life.  Second:  cutting back on hours at "the job."

         "Time is money," Ben Franklin told us, but I prefer to think that "money is time."  Treasuring my time, I'm frugal and careful with money--it takes a lot of time to acquire the stuff.

         The best practical outline I've seen of a way to get your time back is delineated in an inspiring book, a book that really changed my life, called "Your Money or Your Life" by Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin.

         Before physical therapy school, I lived in San Francisco, worked part time with the disabled, and rode my bike everywhere.  Sometimes I'd get home and my neighbors would be sitting on the steps talking; I'd often join them for 10 minutes or a couple of hours.  I felt part of a community.  After achieving "professional" status, job hours and pressures were magnified; I was "dead meat" when I got home.  I avoided neighbors who might steal my precious remaining time.  Once my best friend called, and I saw myself resenting the intrusion.  Then I realized:  "This is no way to live!  I've got to slow down!"
 
         I slowed down.  It took awhile.  I didn't just chuck everything, but made a plan, tried to be patient, and eventually took some risks.  I've been fortunate, got my time back, and have never been happier.  I can write, I can garden.  I'm still busy; I'll never finish everything on my constantly updated list, but I don't have to do it all!  I'm busy, but not in a hurry.  If I see a neighbor, I usually have time to talk.