Shop time
It's like real time; only better
This week marks the dreaded spring forward time change, otherwise known as daylight savings time here in the US. This barbaric custom of adjusting our clocks forward by one hour was invented most likely to torture the populace into a collective sleep-deprived hysteria for no other reason aside from sheer meanness. As we make the slow, drowsy creep through this abysmal period, I thought it timely to reflect on the fluid nature of time as it pertains to the best of all times, shop time. ~JRC
Time as we know it is an artificial construct of the human mind. That's at least what many philosophers and some physicists tell us. But time feels genuine in the everyday, real or imagined. And time can both benefit and torment us, if we let it. Thankfully, there is an escape of sorts. The shop.
The day begins, and it ends. And we fill the "time" between these events with all manner of time-consuming endeavors. While many of these tasks are mundane (e.g., doing one's taxes), others are necessary. Take, for instance, eating and sleeping. Unequivocally required.
And then there is shop time.
For those who make, time in the shop is the best of all time-consuming undertakings.
Here, in the industry and detritus of creativity, we take time by the reins and consume it as a resource. Much like the wood, cloth, metal, clay, and leather we use in our creations, time goes into everything we make. But unlike other consumables, we cannot get more time if we run short. No, time cannot be borrowed, bought, or sold, as the saying goes. We have a finite amount, and to squander time is a tragedy if there ever was one.
As valuable as time is, the irony of time is the better we use it, the quicker it slips through our fingers. Case in point: back in the shop. Here, time used wisely manifests as the flow - that state where our work consumes us and the relevance of time slips away. Time loses its grip on our thoughts, and we transcend into a dreamy state of reflection and instinct, contemplation and action.
In the end, we have a result. For makers, it's a thing one can hold and marvel at - our creation. But what we don't have is more time. Instead, the clock on the wall reminds us that time has passed, consumed.
And we are now late picking up our child from school.
Snarled traffic thwarts us, and the minutes flash by like seconds as we navigate across town. Every moment is agonizing when we are late. Time does not wait, of course. But instead, it tortures and reminds us of all that we must do and how so very much of it we can never get done.
Never enough of it, time.
Time laughs at us as we realize the futility of it all. But despite the ever-present crunch, we often have moments when life again elevates above the confines of temporal limitations. Time, occasionally, is on our side.
Miraculously, we manage to get to school as scheduled, and now the child we collected sits happily in the back seat, recounting his day. The present fills with stories and laughs. Here, in the company of love, we slip into another kind of flow encapsulated in a bubble of timeless focus and limitless joy. But only for a time. Both joy and time are neither encapsulated nor limitless. It only feels that way occasionally.
Soon, the bubble bursts, landing us squarely back in everyday time.
And then there is the time of waiting.
Sitting at the DMV. Along with the huddled masses, all shuffling, fidgeting, watching, and - waiting. Like a hive of bees, there's a buzz of anxiety in collective waiting. Together and yet utterly alone. Only differentiated by a number. And ours is B115.
Will it ever come?
The impatience in waiting gives way to fear. Did we miss it? Has our time come and gone and are we left to wait for nothing?
Thankfully no. They just called B095. Only twenty in front of us; that's not so bad.
Time affords us some relief.
But wait, what was that? G111? And now A089. What is the rationale behind this convoluted system? Numbers and letters? And the letters aren't in order.
Confounded, time now speeds up. Is this futile effort all for not? What is this non-linear chaos before us? No, time is not speeding up. It has somehow broken. Undoubtedly, we are in Hell. Eternally damned, confusion, pain, and suffering have befallen us - for all time.
But inevitably our number is called and we complete our obligations. And fear subsides. Cognizant of time lost, we hurriedly make our way back home.
And to the shop for more shop time.
After a long day, with begrudged commitments and senseless tasks behind us, as well as moments of joy, the shop affords us more time, time of a kind we relish.
Here, the noise muffles, and we recenter around the good, around the peace. Perhaps not into the flow as we'd like, but at least some quality time in a safe space.
That is until time again wins out, and we must go forth into the external world, outside of shop time, into the world of limits.
Until next...time.
JRC
Break time, leisure time, time wasted, on time, out of time, time out, time flies, in the nick of time... We are obsessed with time and I often wonder why this is the case. As time goes by, make time, time for a change, time is money. For millennia, time immemorial, really, time was measured by the daily changes in light and dark, by the changing seasons that repeat themselves in predictable periods. We awoke when it was light; we ate when we were hungry; we slept when we got tired. Now we're surrounded by clocks and gadgets that tell us exactly (or not) the passing of time, defining what are we supposed to do (lunch time, time to go to work, time for a vacation). I keep looking at the clock in my laptop to make sure I have time to get ready for work. Time heals all wounds, only time will tell, kill time, time off. I think of all the best times in my life and often can only recall a few; the worse times of my life are plenty and somewhat more memorable, but I don't know why. A hard time, a waste of time, time after time, time tested. Precious periods of too much time in my hands tucked between urgent ones where there's not enough time to get things done. Time out! Can we stop this timeline? I want to get off.
The time I spend with my loved ones is the time I treasure the most. I want more of that time, the kind of time that seems oh so short, so fleeting, before time runs out.