I came across an article the other day that attempted to explore the concept of time, its seemingly abstract nature, and the components that cause us to question the speed at which it appears to be flying—or, alternately, crawling—by.

The theory: time spent engaged in relatively enjoyable, productive activities moves far faster than those intervals consumed by more mundane tasks, psychologically speaking.

Logical enough.

More fascinating—and somewhat disturbing—to me, though, is this new mentality we’ve all seemed to have adopted, wishing time away in hopes of better days ahead.

This approach goes against the grain of every philosophy we’ve spent years professing—savor every moment, be present in the now, appreciate the little things ... instead, it’s become a race to a better tomorrow, mindlessly counting down days with no clear endgame on the calendar.

To hear people talk of 2020 as a “lost” year is utterly depressing, especially when you consider those who may have been looking forward to celebrating milestones, achieving personal goals, or simply beginning to build a foundation to better things.

Last I checked, seven full months remain, and I for one am not so comfortable carelessly writing them off.

March dragged on. April flew by. Says who? Those inundated with work and children and spouses and remote schooling, or those sitting home alone with no human companionship to speak of?

Perhaps—and this goes for most sentiments publicly expressed nowadays—we should only speak for ourselves and not assume to know what any other person might be feeling or experiencing.

Time is relative. Certainly. But it also continues to march on, no matter what lens we view it through.

Seems to me we should all start to value it a bit more.

Published: May 13, 2020