Time is the central mystery. When I was an actual monk in a forest monastery, my daily life was regulated by bells and clappers. There were even grandfather clocks ticking in the meditation halls. Everyone proceeded everyday by a strict schedule. Yet despite all of this regimentation, during meditation we monks experienced a timeless state of being- something great Longchenpa called "Fourth Time"- a state where past, future and even present disappear, yet not because of distraction. Though out in this hectic busy world we cannot all hope to abide in the fourth time, we should aspire as you would like us do Jason, to slow down to a new normal. As a computer engineer in Tracy Kidder's great book, "The Soul of a New Machine," said after the teams' effort to build a new computer operating at very fast clock speeds, moving large blocks of data in perfect synchrony, an exquisitely difficult exercise in traffic management where all the streams of traffic are moving through a vast city at speeds near the velocity of light... Quitting the team, he left a note saying
"I'm going to a commune in Vermont and will deal with no unit of time shorter than a season."
From MIPS to sips of cider, watching the leaves fall in Autumn. A new normal.
Good timing with this. A few days ago, I left my rural life in Ontario (slow internet, squirrels, fall slowly falling) and flew to a city in England. It was like moving through the transition you write about in the space of 24 hours.
And it was so noticeable. It feels like people here are living a nano-life, squeezed in, tech-enhanced, units of the economy.
And so here I am, sitting in an English pub, reading your article and pondering how my native plant landscape service helps to bring people back (forward?) to a time when being here was enough.
Once again, a wonderful read. We've been rewatching movies from the '80s and their pace seems so slow compared to movies nowadays. I hope a new genre of "slow movie" evolves for those of us who like such things. I believe "Hunt for the Wilderpeople" would fall into this category. Regarding highlighting the good news, a habit I've been trying to cultivate in myself is to always explain how this good news came about. In the case of the state in India achieving 100% organic, the government slowly weened farmers off their synthetic fertilizer subsidies. I believe we have some "opportunities" here in the States to do the same. As you mentioned in a previous post, governance is key to all environmental progress.
Thank you, Amanda. We really liked "Hunt for the Wilderpeople" too, not least bc I have a soft spot for all things NZ. But the entertainment algorithm is favoring fast films with fast cuts (imagine how dumb the AI versions will be...). And yes, thanks for the reminder to go deeper on the How of the good news. I did take note in that Sikkim article of that key point, that it required patient and thoughtful governance to transform farming. Here in the U.S. I think the path for that work is still trickle-up, but if the Harris administration (fingers and toes crossed) is as effective as the Biden administration in long-term planning (did you see the latest on lead pipes?), then we can hope some of that will reach the ag sector.
Nicely done, Jason. I have written several essays that, in a different style, have presented a similar take on things. I believe there are 3 central evolutionary instincts all life have - the need for stability, predictability and connection. In the past 200-300 years, and especially in the past 40-50, industrial civilization has all but stomped those instincts out of us, in the misguided belief that 'change' and 'progress' are what we need. Here are a couple of examples. Starving for feedback, Folks!
And, of course--the irony!--most people won't read this long-form essay. No time for that! Thank you, Jason. I am doing my best to slow down, but the forces are against me at every turn.
Hi Jenny: Yes, there are no shortage of ironies when writing online about the busy world... especially when cramming in several hours right at the end to tweak the writing and reframe the essay. As for your high-speed, multitasking life, you'll have to have a stern talk with whoever is making your schedule...
Have you noticed how many newsletters on here are from people (anything from their 20s to their 60s) writing about their symptoms of, or their journey through burnout? Within that, there's a subset of people who used to be CEO/city journo/film director/fashion leader/finance wiz/ online guru etc etc etc who are now living simpler slower lives, and telling us all how much better they feel. Every day seems to throw yet another of these kinds of newsletters into my feed.
That's interesting, Caroline. I'm glad at least that people are reporting on the need to slow down from all corners of the economy. In my case, though, I've managed to spend most of my life avoiding the kind of life that leads to burnout. Seasonal work in Antarctica when I was younger (traveling otherwise), and self-employed or working part-time since then, making my own schedule as much as possible. I'm fully ensconced in the busy world, but keeping it at arm's length when I can. It never made sense to me.
BTW, mind if I repost this as a guest offering on my own Substack? I'm all, and only, about getting as much thinking and conversing going as possible. Lemme know.
Yes... and a lot of us know what you are talking about and are working on 'the culture' or looking for 'the culture' or being our own forms of the 'the culture' that is trying to work our way through us! Cheers!
“It’s heartbreaking, really, to live a life that senses the astonishing beauty and complexity of the physical universe and biological world, and to know that at our best we’re a wondrous part of all of it, all while watching the tragedy unfold.”
“And our children and grandchildren, even if we make this right, will still be coping with much deeper impacts before the arc of empathy truly embraces the beautiful world.”
Your writing today, tells a heart wrenching tale. It reads like a fable, a cautionary tale , which always has a moral to the story. Unfortunately the moral of the story is all hypothetical . And this is not fiction. I can only hope , many years from now this story has a beautiful and wondrous ending.The beginning of a bright new narrative. For now, one of my favorite poems comes to mind.
As a jewelry artist I'm working on a piece I'm calling Erosion, but it could be called change or so many other nouns. Inspired by the geology of Montana, nurtured by the Maine coast, informed by my older body and work in the estate and downsizing industry, I daily touch the artifacts of the last 150 years. The sense of those earlier hands holding that tool or treasure, and what the pace of their days work felt like is like a communion with time.
This is very timely for me (pun intended). I am in a life-and-not life struggle with an overwhelming feeling of time scarcity. I needed this perspective from the outside, that this urge to maximize time is both self-induced, and part of a toxic culture soup we’re living in.
Your writing helped me today with one of the biggest problems in my life right now. Thank you.
Thank you for letting me know, Stef. It's an honor to be of use. It's why I'm here, ideally. And know that you're not alone in this struggle with how we relate to time. Take care, and be well.
Time is the central mystery. When I was an actual monk in a forest monastery, my daily life was regulated by bells and clappers. There were even grandfather clocks ticking in the meditation halls. Everyone proceeded everyday by a strict schedule. Yet despite all of this regimentation, during meditation we monks experienced a timeless state of being- something great Longchenpa called "Fourth Time"- a state where past, future and even present disappear, yet not because of distraction. Though out in this hectic busy world we cannot all hope to abide in the fourth time, we should aspire as you would like us do Jason, to slow down to a new normal. As a computer engineer in Tracy Kidder's great book, "The Soul of a New Machine," said after the teams' effort to build a new computer operating at very fast clock speeds, moving large blocks of data in perfect synchrony, an exquisitely difficult exercise in traffic management where all the streams of traffic are moving through a vast city at speeds near the velocity of light... Quitting the team, he left a note saying
"I'm going to a commune in Vermont and will deal with no unit of time shorter than a season."
From MIPS to sips of cider, watching the leaves fall in Autumn. A new normal.
Beautiful, Michael. Thank you.
Beautiful.
Good timing with this. A few days ago, I left my rural life in Ontario (slow internet, squirrels, fall slowly falling) and flew to a city in England. It was like moving through the transition you write about in the space of 24 hours.
And it was so noticeable. It feels like people here are living a nano-life, squeezed in, tech-enhanced, units of the economy.
And so here I am, sitting in an English pub, reading your article and pondering how my native plant landscape service helps to bring people back (forward?) to a time when being here was enough.
Thanks, as always, for being on the mark.
Glad the writing resonated, Simon. Enjoy your visit, and the trip back to the quiet life.
Once again, a wonderful read. We've been rewatching movies from the '80s and their pace seems so slow compared to movies nowadays. I hope a new genre of "slow movie" evolves for those of us who like such things. I believe "Hunt for the Wilderpeople" would fall into this category. Regarding highlighting the good news, a habit I've been trying to cultivate in myself is to always explain how this good news came about. In the case of the state in India achieving 100% organic, the government slowly weened farmers off their synthetic fertilizer subsidies. I believe we have some "opportunities" here in the States to do the same. As you mentioned in a previous post, governance is key to all environmental progress.
Thank you, Amanda. We really liked "Hunt for the Wilderpeople" too, not least bc I have a soft spot for all things NZ. But the entertainment algorithm is favoring fast films with fast cuts (imagine how dumb the AI versions will be...). And yes, thanks for the reminder to go deeper on the How of the good news. I did take note in that Sikkim article of that key point, that it required patient and thoughtful governance to transform farming. Here in the U.S. I think the path for that work is still trickle-up, but if the Harris administration (fingers and toes crossed) is as effective as the Biden administration in long-term planning (did you see the latest on lead pipes?), then we can hope some of that will reach the ag sector.
Thanks for the news roundup and for some images that slowed the morning fast-read on-to-the-next for a moment of wonder and reflection.
Sounds like I'm doing my job, Caroline... Thank you for letting me know.
Nicely done, Jason. I have written several essays that, in a different style, have presented a similar take on things. I believe there are 3 central evolutionary instincts all life have - the need for stability, predictability and connection. In the past 200-300 years, and especially in the past 40-50, industrial civilization has all but stomped those instincts out of us, in the misguided belief that 'change' and 'progress' are what we need. Here are a couple of examples. Starving for feedback, Folks!
https://jstuckey.substack.com/p/on-the-benefits-of-stupidity
https://jstuckey.substack.com/p/on-being-just-another-animal
Sounds great, John. I'll take a look soon. Really appreciate you chiming in here.
And, of course--the irony!--most people won't read this long-form essay. No time for that! Thank you, Jason. I am doing my best to slow down, but the forces are against me at every turn.
Hi Jenny: Yes, there are no shortage of ironies when writing online about the busy world... especially when cramming in several hours right at the end to tweak the writing and reframe the essay. As for your high-speed, multitasking life, you'll have to have a stern talk with whoever is making your schedule...
Have you noticed how many newsletters on here are from people (anything from their 20s to their 60s) writing about their symptoms of, or their journey through burnout? Within that, there's a subset of people who used to be CEO/city journo/film director/fashion leader/finance wiz/ online guru etc etc etc who are now living simpler slower lives, and telling us all how much better they feel. Every day seems to throw yet another of these kinds of newsletters into my feed.
That's interesting, Caroline. I'm glad at least that people are reporting on the need to slow down from all corners of the economy. In my case, though, I've managed to spend most of my life avoiding the kind of life that leads to burnout. Seasonal work in Antarctica when I was younger (traveling otherwise), and self-employed or working part-time since then, making my own schedule as much as possible. I'm fully ensconced in the busy world, but keeping it at arm's length when I can. It never made sense to me.
It's good that more people are feeling that way. Quiet resistance!
BTW, mind if I repost this as a guest offering on my own Substack? I'm all, and only, about getting as much thinking and conversing going as possible. Lemme know.
Of course, John. I'm honored.
Yes... and a lot of us know what you are talking about and are working on 'the culture' or looking for 'the culture' or being our own forms of the 'the culture' that is trying to work our way through us! Cheers!
Cheers to you too, Guy. Glad you're out there doing good work.
Urgent, important, well-written. Thank you!
Thank you very much, Christiana.
“It’s heartbreaking, really, to live a life that senses the astonishing beauty and complexity of the physical universe and biological world, and to know that at our best we’re a wondrous part of all of it, all while watching the tragedy unfold.”
“And our children and grandchildren, even if we make this right, will still be coping with much deeper impacts before the arc of empathy truly embraces the beautiful world.”
Your writing today, tells a heart wrenching tale. It reads like a fable, a cautionary tale , which always has a moral to the story. Unfortunately the moral of the story is all hypothetical . And this is not fiction. I can only hope , many years from now this story has a beautiful and wondrous ending.The beginning of a bright new narrative. For now, one of my favorite poems comes to mind.
Nothing Gold Can Stay ~Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Beautiful, Lor, thank you. The good news is that after leaf subsides to soil it becomes leaf again, if we let it.
As a jewelry artist I'm working on a piece I'm calling Erosion, but it could be called change or so many other nouns. Inspired by the geology of Montana, nurtured by the Maine coast, informed by my older body and work in the estate and downsizing industry, I daily touch the artifacts of the last 150 years. The sense of those earlier hands holding that tool or treasure, and what the pace of their days work felt like is like a communion with time.
Thank you for your work.
Thank you, Sarah. "Communion with time" is exactly right, and a lovely phrase.
Beautiful - like the ocean & the black rock.
Also heartening to look at the comments & know there are actually quite a few of us with a wider lens living our days trying to help. Thanks to all -
Thank you, Peggy. So true that there are so many with the wider lens doing the work at hand. Well said.
Thanks, again, Jason. Ironically enough, I'm listening to Eric Clapton's 'Gotta get better in a little while' as I type.
This is very timely for me (pun intended). I am in a life-and-not life struggle with an overwhelming feeling of time scarcity. I needed this perspective from the outside, that this urge to maximize time is both self-induced, and part of a toxic culture soup we’re living in.
Your writing helped me today with one of the biggest problems in my life right now. Thank you.
Thank you for letting me know, Stef. It's an honor to be of use. It's why I'm here, ideally. And know that you're not alone in this struggle with how we relate to time. Take care, and be well.