You don’t have time for anything.

You’ve got five tabs open on your browser, glaring, bold-faced emails that require responses, glaring, bold-faced bosses that require answers, and a family that, later, will require your last tattered, surviving joule of energy, before you hurriedly run an Oral B across your choppers, pray that there’s a clean pair of sweats (please let there be sweats!), and bellyflop face-first onto your bed, whose sheets really could use a good washing.   If only you had the time.

As you lay there, your mind sprints a 100 yard-dash through a mental purgatory of phone calls to return, errands to run, cards to remember to send, functions to attend, appointments to keep–did I get my car inspected on time?!–basketball games to cheer on, gym time to log, whether or not you can still pull off spandex, and why on earth anyone would buy a pair of those plastic neon sunglasses with the lines through them.

You turn, toss and kick the tangled covers off of your feet in a child-like fit of frustration.  You don’t have time for anything.

In fact, you barely have time to read this.  (And I barely had time to write it.)

Back in the office, you won’t have time for a lunch break.  (And your boss won’t have time to read the report you’ll spend your lunch break typing.)

You won’t have time to cook a healthy meal for dinner.  (And your doctor won’t have time to answer your questions regarding your impending hypertension.)

You won’t have time to be intimate with your significant other.  (And your significant other won’t have time to end it with you face-to-face before leaving.)

You won’t have time to take a vacation this year.  (And when making layoffs, corporate won’t have time to notice.)

You won’t have time to go the speed limit.  (And the paramedics won’t have time to revive you.)

You won’t have time to live your life.  (And your life won’t have time to create many memories worth remembering.)

And thereafter, your friends won’t have time to mourn, before they’ll hastily rush back to work in fear of “falling behind,” as they, too, skip their lunch breaks and forfeit their vacation in the name of getting ahead.

At what point did productivity become worth dying for?

At what point did we stop feeling, and just start doing?

At what point did our lives turn into a never-ending assembly line, where the work is never done and we are never done?

And at what point did we become okay with it?

Using The Neverending To-Do List To Your Advantage

Granted, in line with basic human needs, there will always be something else to do in the name of survival.  Kill-woolly-mammoth-for-food, for example, or generate-income-to-purchase-food, for a more relevant example. Add on an assortment of self-inflicted obligations on top of societal ones, and juxtapose them with present-day standards of living, and you’ve got yourself one heck of a to-do list–one that, no matter how hard you try, will never, ever be complete.  Until you’re dead, that is.

As daunting as that seems, the fact that life’s to-do list will never be complete is, contrary to instinct, to your advantage. So is the fact that you’re not dead, in case you haven’t had time to notice.

The advantage is this:  Since there’s always going to be something else to do, forever and ever and ever and ever and ever, so help me Jehovah, Jabbodah, Jeremiah or Jay-Z, it logically follows that it would be impossible to get everything done.

And if it’s impossible to get everything done, then why are we in such a hurry to achieve an impossible goal? (Overachievers.  Sheesh.)

The Point

SLOW THE (INSERT EXPLETIVE) DOWN!

AND JUST BECAUSE I REALLY LIKE CAPS AND THIS SEEMS LIKE A LESSON WE COULD ALL BENEFIT FROM IF WE MANAGE TO GET IT THROUGH OUR CUTE LITTLE OVERACTIVE CEREBRUMS, I’M GOING TO FURTHER THAT STATEMENT IN ALL CAPS WITH THIS:

STOP RUSHING TO YOUR DEATH.

In my view, we could all really benefit if we could learn to reprogram our internal Tom-Toms from “fastest route” to “scenic route,” because otherwise, we will arrive much sooner than we ever imagined, without having seen any of the pretty lakes, rivers, valleys, fields, forests, deer, wild boar, or David The Gnome.  And wouldn’t you jump at the chance to see David The Gnome, even just to give him a high five for that sweet red hat?

That sounds like I’m promoting drug usage.  I’m not.  I don’t…I just…I just….ah, forget it.

This Is Not New Information

When it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter how many ridiculous metaphors I use, you already know that you have to slow down.  We all know that.  You’ve probably had mini heart-to-hearts with yourself over the years, telling yourself the very same thing.  You’ve made promises to read more books for leisure, spend more time playing Mario Kart with the kids, take long, drawn-out baths and maybe even try yoga.

So why haven’t you?

You fantasize about putting the world on pause, hanging a giant “Do Not Disturb” sign right on that which is your life, and curling up with a Harlequin romance.  (Don’t deny.)

But you can’t, right?

Because there’s no remote control for the world–not even a mute button–and if you hesitate for even a moment, someone will come along who’s better, faster, more capable than you, and before you know it, you’ll be left in the dust.

That’s the fear, isn’t it?

Guess what:  It’s time to wind up big and give that fear a fresh one, because the only thing that’ll be left in the dust is your guilty conscience.  Bring on the Harlequins, I say.

While it’s true that we will always have something to do, and it may feel like we’re working on a 24/7 assembly line with no end in sight, that doesn’t mean we can’t kick the conveyor belt down a notch and take our good, sweet time.  Periodic dance parties purely optional.  Henry Ford is not behind you with a whip.  The only one rushing you…is you.

A Little Experiment

Try this:

Tomorrow, walk really slowly.

It’s that simple.  Walking slowly on purpose always helps me feel more calm, in general, and forces me to slow everything else down.  Give your brain the uncommon treat of being able to simply trot along peacefully, without having to race.  Take the time to smell the air, and not just smell it, but really inhale it.  Notice things.  Notice yourself.  Notice how you feel.   Notice who you are.

Revel in the peace of mind & unexpected relief that comes with not having to be the fastest, if only for today.  Let people think you drive like grandma and yell obscenities out the window.  Who cares?  Just crank the tunes.

Note: Might be useful to have a video camera on hand.  Recording other people getting angry because you’re not rushing through your life like they are might prove to be disturbingly delightful.

Stop being impatient.  Anxious.  Intolerant.  Demanding.  Short.  Tense.  High-strung.  Temperamental.

Take a deep breath, and slow it down, Gonzalez!   Make a conscious effort, if for no other reason than it feels good.   Despite appearances, you are completely in control of your time and how you operate.   Don’t forget it.   Getting the world’s most productive person award is not worth sacrificing the quality of your experience here on earth.   Actually, it’s not even worth trading your black jellybeans for, since it doesn’t even exist.

Chill out.  And in the meantime, you should definitely have a lasso on hand–after all, who needs a muse if you’ve captured a gnome?

Today, there are no flowery introductions, no background information to give and no anecdotes to tell (I’ll even spare you the details of the cute guy I met while white water rafting here the other day in Costa Rica)–today, it’s straight to the point:

You don’t have a career.  What you’ve got is a glorified version of a job.

The term “career” is nothing more than a fancy linguistic trick designed to make you believe that what you’re doing is more meaningful than just some job, but in essence, they are the same:   Whether you develop cutting edge proposals for high-value clients (ohhh, ahhh!) or you spend your days removing dirty plates from tables, you are, in both cases, performing a task in exchange for money.

But career just sounds so much better, doesn’t it?  It implies that you’ve selected this path and therefore are engaged, dedicated and glad to be doing what you’re doing.  More importantly, using the term “career” communicates your social status to others; it indirectly says, “I have the luxury of choosing the way I’m going to spend 8-10 hours each day.  I even get a whole hour for lunch….suckaaas!”

Surely, the term career can mean that you’ve spent time training for Job Title X, and hence you are highly skilled.  An expert.   A specialist.  A professional.   But it becomes less attractive when, in spending so much time training for our “career”–otherwise known as a job we do because we like it (or thought we would) more than others–we use it to form our identities of who we are as people.

Ask someone about themselves, and they’ll default to a job-title description first, usually followed by where they’re from and what they’re doing, but not a lot on who they actually ARE. “You are what you do” is a bunch of crap–I do not believe that we are a product of the tasks we perform, but rather in the experiences we’ve had. Therefore, perhaps instead of “you are what you do,” maybe it should read “you are what you’ve learned.”

But wait, isn’t the advice du jour “Do What You Love?”

By attaching our identities to the jobs we perform, in an effort to seek meaning for ourselves, we erroneously seek meaning in our jobs. At first glance, this seems like a noble & worthwhile goal; however, it’s reached a point in which it now backfires on us.  Now, the only way we know how to find meaning is through the job functions we perform. We define ourselves by it, use it as a source of pride, sacrifice for it and devote our lives to it; as such, we become one in the same.

The problem with that is that is its potential to make us painstakingly narrow human beings. There are so many things that you are, and so many worthwhile things to explore and derive meaning from than some arbitrary task you perform.  A favorite quote of mine by United States author, Henry Miller:

“Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people.”

What inspired this post has been the last month I’ve been here in Central America.  Where I’m based out of, on the Central Pacific coast of Costa Rica, there is no such thing as a career.  People work typically from 6am to 2pm, or from 2pm to 10pm in hotels, restaurants and any other number of tourist industries, and none of the jobs are particularly glamourous.  However, they’re more than grateful to have one at all, and you never hear anyone complaining about having to go to work.

That said, they also don’t associate their self-worth with what they do for money, and tend to be less bitter because of it; to them, a job is simply what you do to survive, and there’s no other meaning in it than that. Instead, they find meaning outside of their work, in places like their families, friendships and social connections. Meet a person here and ask them about themselves, and they will never respond first with, “Oh, I’m a receptionist at X hotel,” but rather “I’m so and so’s cousin, I live over in X neighborhood.  As a matter of fact, we’re having a birthday party for my grandmother tonight–want to come?” As an interesting side note, if I meet someone and ask what they do in Spanish, “Que haces?” they will tell me what they’ve got on their agenda for the day, NOT what they do for a living.  In order to find out where they work, I’ve got literally got to ask what they do for work, “En que trabajas?”  However, if I ask the same question, “What do you do?” in English, you know that I am asking about what you do for a living.  Yet another cruel linguistic trick that is highly reflective of our values.

I’ve observed a drastic shift in priorities, from those of the United States, and, frankly, despite the fact that many of the local workers here earn no more than $2/hour, I find myself envying them.  They are free from judgments about who they are based on what they do for a living, and as such, are free from the pressure that we knowingly or unknowingly put on ourselves.  They happily put in their 8 hours, and thereafter work is over–they are free to spend the remainder of their day engaging in activities they love with the people they love.  No one brings their work home with them; no one is missing out on their daughter’s childhood in a vain attempt to work overtime; no one is stressed, hurried and frantically rushing through life. They are happy to just be, and are fully aware of how to embrace pleasure, and use that to find meaning.

The conclusion?

I’d rather have a job over a career any day…suckaaas.

P.S.  If you didn’t get a chance to see my latest guest post over at Josh Hanagarne’s site, The World’s Strongest Librarian, check it out–it’s completely off the wall and on a topic that I don’t usually discuss here:  Sex!