Time Analog
I have a digital “smartwatch” that pairs with my digital phone, and I write a blog called “Live Analog.” The watch gets on my nerves at times. I hate “notifications,” though I use the timer to remind me I have water running on something growing in my yard, and I do like it when it notifies me that my wife is trying to contact me from work. I got it originally because my wife was concerned about my sleep patterns, and wanted to make sure I was breathing properly and maintaining a reasonable heart rate through the night. I suppose that’s a good thing, even though it suggests I’m unreasonably healthy, like nearly every doctor's visit I make.
I’ve tried to compensate by only using Analog watch faces on it–currently Mickey Mouse.
I try not to be unreasonable about my Analog obsessions. Though I’m still fascinated by sundials. Before I began my thirty-plus year teaching career, I remember chanting the mantra, “I always want more time than money.” Today I understand more fully why.
I used to tell my students that I was raised over a century ago. It’s not an entirely unsubstantiated statement. I have hand-pumped water from a well, and carried it to a kitchen. I’ve “showered” under a raingutter downspout. One of my chores as a ten-year-old was to light the kerosene lanterns before the generator shut down for the night. If I wanted to call my friends, there was a wooden box on the wall with a small megaphone shaped receiver coming out of the front, and a listening cone hanging from the side. If I knew a friend’s “morris code” (short & long ring combination), I could ring them, but all the phones on the compound rang when I did that, and anybody could pick up, if they wanted, and listen in. Better to just run to their house… I was raised in the apron of the Yucatan Peninsula jungles on hospital or clinic compounds. There were inconveniences that I now remember very fondly. “Technology” to me at the time meant the bush plane out of which I climbed from a crash, and spent three and a half days walking home, completely unaware, at the age of nine, how lucky I was to survive.
I guess I have my reasons to limit my affinity for technology. And maybe a uniquely amplified awareness of what it can take from me.
Mainly, time.
Probably the most appealing thing about technology is the time it is supposed to save us–nevermind the fact that our culture just pushes us to work faster, harder, longer, more productively to keep up with the pace all these technological wonders set.
Without a doubt, the most crippling thing about technology is the time it takes from us.
This is a blinding paradox, and a black hole that is ingesting our culture.
In the last week I have played a gig at a local establishment, hosted two events at my home, attended three in other locations, prepped or helped prep food for the above, met one alum for coffee, almost kept up with the watering, mowed and trimmed the yard, cut back branches that over hung our parking strip, harvested nearly three gallons of blueberries, maintained my morning routine of shower/yoga/smoothie/ coffee, managed to get a couple World Cup games and a WNBA game in, written a blog... Yes, I’m a bit tired. And I have a few more things to do to prep for the next event. This is my retired life, and I can’t really imagine a better way to live it, except for my wife being retired too–that will come.
It’s all about time.
F*** money. If my money isn’t giving me time, I don’t want it. If my money is costing me time, I want it even less. The only things I really like to spend money on are things I want to spend my time on–guitars, old cars, dance clothes… So yes, I see a purpose for money. But it has to buy me the quality of time I want. Time to spend Living Analog.
When I think of the things we sacrifice because we “don’t have time,” it breaks my heart. The processed foods we eat, because we “don’t have time” to cook. The extra money we spend to have groceries delivered because we “don’t have time” to go to a farmers market and hand select locally grown seasonal fresh produce. The time we spend watching people on YouTube do all the things we wish we had time to do. The money we spend for somebody else to make our yard look the way we wish we had time to spend making it look. So many of these circle back on themselves. I have to spend all my time earning more money so it looks like I have more time.
And it’s a very difficult cycle to break.
Here are some suggestions to turning the corner and begin putting time before money.
Start by improving the quality of the time you do spend already. If you like a hot bath, add some candles and a bath bomb, then spend fifteen minutes longer than you planned–maybe take a “guilty pleasure” book to the tub with you, and let your toes “prune.”
If you occasionally like to cook, pick one extra special person (partner, child, best friend…), call them up, and plan a time to cook together–add at least an extra hour to what you would normally spend.
If there is a corner of your yard you’ve always wanted to plant, spend an hour or two taking measurements and drawing out plans one day, slot another hour or two to visit your local gardening store to acquire whatever tools, starts or seeds, and fertilizers/soil, you might need (spend a little of your hard-earned money buying time), then cut one day out of a weekend to plant it–make sure you create a watering schedule that fits into your weekly itinerary.
Last night I hosted my bi-weekly jam session in our yard. I had planned to contribute “cowboy caviar” and chips to the potluck menu, but I also threw in watermelon that we already had on hand, and I brewed what I call “yard water”--chilled water infused with whatever herbs and fruit are currently in our yard, though my wife doesn’t like me to call it “yard water.” This has become a tradition when we host summer events. Last night’s version included blueberries, lemon balm, mojito mint, and lavender in a “hop sack” (infusion bag used for brewing beer), steeped in a two gallon spigoted container with ice, to which I added a couple tablespoons of sugar. It seems like whatever is in the yard makes the most refreshing light summer “tea.” And “yard water” became a great conversation starter, and an opportunity for me to celebrate some of the “fruits of my labor” here in the yard. Analog conversation celebrating my attempts at an Analog lifestyle.
At some point we will either eliminate ourselves as a species, because we obsessed over the imaginary value we have ascribed to money and “economy,” or we will get back to Living Analog, investing time in people and experiences. When the time I invest making money takes people and experiences out of my life, regardless how much money it accumulates, it is a waste. The loneliest people I am aware of in the world are the people with the most money and the most “power”--people who we fear getting close to. What do you think they will regret on their deathbeds?
Cut yourself a slice of time, and spend it, “a la mode,” Analog, on something you want more of in your life. Put at least one of these slices on your schedule each week, as a starter.
Maybe put a sundial in your yard, as a reminder to Live Analog.
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