Musings on the Passing of Time
Pondering the ticking clock.
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I've heard a lot of people getting excited about spring recently (although - spoiler alert - I don't think we're really there yet; see
’s February newsletter for how London’s seasons line up). Whether it's the promise of lighter evenings or fresh blooms, people seem generally pleased we are edging closer to March.I, on the other hand, would probably be very happily still in January. Still in that cosy hibernating vibe, where I was attempting to relive the essence of Twixmas (and can report it doesn’t quite have the same effect when you’re back at work). The fact it is already almost the end of February scares me. The time flying away, moving at almost record speed, baffles me. Yes I have felt the drag of days, of the working week, but the speed of months moving by seems to wildly override these.
I think I’ve always felt quite strongly about the notion of time. The concept of it's passing can stir a rather visceral reaction within me. I am incredibly concerned with not using time in the best way I can. Of not doing enough with the time I have on Earth. With the time I have in a day; in an hour. I always want time to slow down so that I can feel I have more chance to make the most of it. Of course, it doesn't really work like that. Time will travel as it always has; I a mere economy passenger on the journey.
My alertness to the passing of time on a micro basis feeds my penchant for productivity, and means, for example, that if I've decided to catch up on some Substack newsletters in bed when I wake up, before I've opened the first one I'm already negotiating with my brain over how long I can read for, before I need to get on with the next thing. Often I’ve already mentally created a schedule in my head the night before, time-blocking my waking moments rather than let my interest be peaked and head down a rabbit hole of recommendations if that’s where it were to take me. The shackles of my consciousness mean even my ‘free time’ doesn’t always feel very free.
As I started to draft this piece, I was stuck at a red signal on the Piccadilly line heading into the office, jotting down thoughts in my notes app, trying to maximise what could otherwise feel like wasted time. But if I wasn't writing, I had a book in my bag, and the knowledge that I could access a couple of unread emails without signal. I am ever-equipped to try and ensure my time is not wasted, whatever annoyance or change of plans I may be faced with.
Speaking of the office, I'm trying to be really strict this year (though I've made this promise to myself many-a-time) to keep my day job within working hours, not letting it spill over into the rest of my life. While it is a job that has meaning, as well as paying the bills, it can be stressful, frustrating, confusing - and it is not my life's work.
But what it my life's work? What is the thing I am striving to put out into the world, or leave as a legacy, within the time that I have? Since starting and committing to this newsletter, writing finally feels like one of them. I don't believe I share anything wildly prolific here, or at least have not yet written something that will change laws or ignite fierce social change. But people - mainly women, though not always - seem to resonate with some things I say, which is nice for them, and for me. I've had to carve out time for writing each week, and while I don't have a regular rhythm or routine, it always feels like a worthy, joyful way to spend time. Sometimes I put a limit on my writing time because I need to fit in other things - like my actual job - other times I will have the luxury of a relatively free weekend where I sense I can afford to spend a glorious six hours typing or handwriting away.
But what if it isn't writing that is supposed to be the legacy I focus on? What if it is another job that pays the bills, a job I don't yet know I will one day work in, that will fill me with such a sense of enjoyment, pride, fulfilment that I'll happily plug away 14 hours a day, no questions asked? Or maybe it’s becoming a mother, something I’m confident I want, but don't yet feel ready for. Is it these unknowns that I should be spending my time preparing for, upskilling to learn more about AI in an attempt to future-proof my career, or working out how to build enough financial stability to feel I can bring a child into this world? Or maybe it's nothing as significant as these things, maybe my - and indeed perhaps our - purpose is in the small day-to-day acts of keeping things ticking over, being a good person, trying to spread kindness in the world.
On that note of the daily minutiae it's hard to believe that all the time spent washing dishes is a good use of time, isn’t it? Chunks of time, sometimes several times a day, rinsing, scrubbing, draining. And to what end? To literally do it all again a few hours later. But, my penchant for productivity strikes again here, coming back to wanting to make the most of every minute in this one wild and precious life (we can thank capitalism for co-opting Mary Oliver), and means that I try to elevate these moments of mundanity. Listening to a podcast for example gives me something insightful to think about or a burst of creativity while I wipe away. This might then be the fuel for a bountiful writing session, or a push through the rest of the work day with a different perspective.
While I feel incredibly conscious of the passing of time on a small scale, I still, like many, have complained about a long week at work (this past week being a classic example!). I might sit in a Tuesday afternoon meeting, stressed, frustrated, anxious, and long for it to be Friday afternoon when I'm wrapping up to log off and can sense that feeling of the stretch of time ahead of me, before the reality of Monday hits again. But I don't want to feel that way; it feels against my nature to be wishing away the week like that, willing the days to go faster, when I’m otherwise so conscious of how few we have.
I'm better at this during certain times than others, but, like listening to a podcast while washing up, I make a conscious effort to look forward small joys during the day, trying to counteract any stress or worry that might be added into the mix. I genuinely look forward to a morning coffee, whether it’s my usual black from the cafetiere, or the treat of a cappuccino while on the go, or from the coffee shop over the road when a WFH day needs a bit of a boost. I think about the food I might eat for dinner. The engaging podcast I save for a walk. The book or magazine I might read in the evening. These simple pleasures that make time pleasurable - and make me think that maybe life is all about these small day-to-day moments. I guess it's what certain corners of Instagram or Pinterest might call romanticising life.
While the passing of time is always on my mind, I've wondered if I feel it more acutely in February, with it being a month grief anniversaries. I have perhaps more profusely pondered on the time not lived by those lost, and wonder if they felt they had done enough with their time in this life. I wish I had asked them more how they felt about their wild and precious lives. If they felt they'd truly lived enough; if they wished they had more adventures, or read more books, or learnt to drive, or bought a house, or complained less about washing up and instead appreciated the joy of having had loved ones around the table together for dinner.
To compound this, 2024 brings a big ol’ millennial birthday for me, and the thought of entering a new decade is also playing on my mind. I’m aware of the biological ticking clock, of all the countries and cities and towns and villages I’ve yet to explore, of all the ladders (career, housing) I should perhaps by now have taken a further step on. I know that I am not alone in worrying about crossing the threshold of the big 3-0, though friends who have entered the realm months or years ahead of me reassure that it’s not all that bad (indeed, nothing really changes at the stroke of midnight). I also found solace recently in this “Quarter Life Crisis” post from
; the comments are a balm, and put a lot of my worries into perspective.We never know what is coming, so all we can do is make the most of each day. Fundamentally I know that there is no right or wrong way to live, to embrace the passing of time, even if that doesn’t stop me from searching for it. I suppose perhaps I need to be content enough with the knowledge that I do my best to live intentionally - and what I prioritise may of course look very different to your approach - and believe that that is enough. To embrace each day, with all it’s highs and lows, to look forward to time in the future, but without compromising being in the here and now.
How do you navigate the passing of time? All insights and tips extremely welcome!
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I found myself nodding along while reading this article. It is highly relatable. We have so much in common. I am glad you shared it, Lauren.
I’m a new reader. This resonated profoundly. I too have always been a person aware of time, its passing, both quickly and slowly. Making the most of it. When you talked of your new decade I was sure you were on the cusp of the big 4-0. I hit that milestone last October. To have this wisdom, even if stress inducing and making you feel a need to calm down and enjoy, your awareness at only 30 is profound. The memories you’ll continue to collect, the appreciation of every coffee and the small things, I think that really is what life is all about. A dream of the future and an appreciation of the present. What a beautiful post. Thank you.