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    Tag: Tempus Fugit

    • Kairos and Our Moment of Moments

      Kairos [kahy-rahs, -rohs]
      noun
      a time that is particularly crucial or suited for carrying out an action.

      We modern types with our schedules and time commitments tend to live in chronological order. Chronos, the embodiment of time, is sequential. But we know that some time is far more important in our lives than other times are. These are ripe moments of potential and meaning that stand out from all the rest. And this is where Kairos comes in.

      This is the time is a feeling. We know it when we reach it. And we ignore it at our peril, for such moments are fleeting. Like the muse for artists and writers, kairos isn’t hanging around until we finish watching that cat video. We must seize what flees or watch time—and our moment with it—slip away.

      Carpe diem, friend. Seize the day. And more, learn to recognize the moment of moments when we must launch ourselves into action. We must live in a state of heightened awareness, that we sense where we are on our journey through time, and have the audacity to take action when it’s demanded of us. To do otherwise is simply to kill time. Where is the joy on a trail of dead hours?

      We are conditioned to treat time as an orderly sequence of seconds to minutes to hours to days. We can train ourselves to leap into action at a moments notice. This isn’t spontaneous as much as a bias towards action when called upon in the moment. If not now, then when? Be bold.

    • Small and Transitory Grapes

      How the clock moves on, relentlessly,
      with such assurance that it eats the years.
      The days are small and transitory grapes,
      the months grow faded, taken out of time.

      It fades, it falls away, the moment, fired
      by that implacable artillery—
      and suddenly, only a year is left of us,
      a month, a day, and death turns up in the diary.

      No one could ever stop the water’s flowing;
      nor thought nor love has ever held it back.
      It has run on through suns and other beings,
      its passing rhythm signifying our death.

      Until, in the end, we fall in time, exhausted,
      and it takes us, and that’s it. Then we are dead,
      dragged off with no being left, no life, no darkness,
      no dust, no words. That is what it comes to;
      and in the city where we’ll live no more,
      all is left empty; our clothing and our pride.
      — Pablo Neruda, And the City Now Has Gone

      Life, dear reader! We must live in our time, while there is time. That’s always been the message: Tempus fugit. Memento mori. Carpe diem. Time flies. Remember we all must die. Seize the day.

      We must remember our days are short and use the highlighter with abandon. Sprinkle these moments zestfully with awareness and joyful intent. Do what must be done immediately! For tomorrow is not our day. We believe it to be so at our peril.

      This blog will one day end. That it continues at all is an indication of the stubborn persistence of the writer. It’s merely bread crumbs placed gently in line, one after the other, marking the hour or two of who I was in the moment. These moments pass, and what is left are some memories, maybe a photograph, and some words published for all to see if they somehow stumble upon this impossibly hard to find jumble of words. But we bloggers know that the universe isn’t shifting its attention to see what our thoughts were today. The ego thus shattered, we shift our own purpose to growth, where it should have been all along.

      Words flow through us like days in a lifetime. These small and transitory grapes have found you today. But where will the writer be on this occasion? Somewhere further along, or fallen by the wayside—who’s to know? We can hope for a better place of awareness and refinement, but we know the score. It’s best to simply release these words of who we were today and not worry about tomorrows. We must each do what we can with this time, for we all know the score.

    • Giving Attention

      “Time and attention are not something we can replenish. They are what our life is. When we offer our time and attention, we are not merely spending and paying. We are giving our lives.”
      — Robert Waldinger, The Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness

      Many get it wrong when they think about making changes in their lives, believing they’re giving up something instead of the other side of that coin: choosing something better. Transformation begins with what we focus our attention on. Just imagine what we could do if we simply paid attention to the right things for a year, or a decade, or a lifetime? But that’s too broad a spectrum. Focus on today instead. Today will always be the day that requires our full attention.

      So what do we pay attention to? Inevitably, that’s where our time goes. Time in itself is a measure, but we can spend time without giving our full attention. Consider a casual restaurant on a busy night. How many scroll their phones while sitting at the dinner table? Are they giving attention to those they are dining with, or is it merely spending time together? When we pay attention to those we love, we are giving more than just our time, we are putting the rest of the universe on hold for the person in front of us. Isn’t that the ultimate gift?

      What gift are we giving ourselves today? What are we consuming that will make us better? Not just food, but information, and feedback from the network of people that surround us. What are we telling ourselves in these moments, or are we distracting ourselves to drown out that inner voice? Maybe we ought to pay more attention to that voice. Surely it has something it wants to tell us.

      Attention is a muscle that we may develop. It brings us to awareness, which is essential to our growth and development. This idea of personal excellence (arete) that I write about frequently in this blog is not some clever affirmation, it’s a daily ritual of discovery and reach. Decide what to be and go be it. What are we waiting for? More time? Our time is right now, waiting for us to finally pay attention and get to it already.

    • Creating Outcomes

      “There is some risk involved in action, there always is. But there is far more risk in failure to act.” — Harry S. Truman

      The funny thing about taking action is that it often leads to more opportunities to act. We become action-oriented, and notice opportunities to act more often than someone who is sedentary and usually looking for opportunities to rest. Ultimately we go in the direction we set our compass to, seeing what we see while creating outcomes that lead to even more outcomes.

      That term, creating outcomes, is high agency stuff. It’s an action-oriented approach to living that suits us. We all know that we’re here for a short time (memento mori). If you read this blog with any regularity you’ve certainly heard me mention that with some frequency. This is not a death-focused mindset, it’s life-focused. Awareness leads to action. We only have so much time—don’t dare waste a moment of it!

      What is an outcome but a destination separated from us by a gap we close? We see the target, determine the action necessary to reach it, and do the work to bridge our here with our potential there. Having reached an outcome, we naturally look towards the next interesting destination, and so on. This is a growth mindset, and it’s a world apart from believing we have no control over our lives. Decide what to be and go be it.

      All that said, I see even as I’m actively bridging gaps that there are other gaps yet to bridge. The only thing to do is figure out how to create those outcomes too, then get after it with urgency. For the clock is ticking and time flies (tempus fugit) and we’re deep into our one precious life, so what are we waiting for?

    • A Day of Vigor

      A wise man will know what game to play to-day, and play it. We must not be governed by rigid rules, as by the almanac, but let the season rule us. The moods and thoughts of man are revolving just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s. Nothing must be postponed. Take time by the forelock. Now or never! You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Take any other course, and life will be a succession of regrets. There is no world for the penitent and regretful.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      As this is published, we’ve reached the sixth month of a pretty crazy year. Tempus fugit: time flies. We’ve learned that many things are out of our control. So what? What have we done with that which we do control? We know the score when we look in the mirror. But this is no time for regret or doubt about the future, for today is the start of something new. Every day is supposed to be, isn’t it? We can only do our best with this one.

      I’ve used Thoreau’s quote three times now in the blog. Each time I’ve been a different person, having accomplished something substantive or facing different challenges that made me who I was in the moment. We are all different with each passing day in our lives. As Heraclitus once observed, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”

      Life changes us, but we in turn may change the circumstances of our lives. We must get after our dream today or release it from our vision of the person we wish to become. Our work must begin today, and always thereafter. We aren’t meant to be feeble in our one chance. It isn’t going to get any easier, so instead we must grow tougher. Bolder. More vigorous. For doesn’t today deserve more vigor than we gave yesterday?

    • Basking In It

      “Time is not slipping through our fingers, time is here forever, it is we who are slipping through the fingers of time.” — David Whyte, Time

      I was texting with a friend who is struggling to balance work with a toddler. She’s prioritizing appropriately, and to use her words, basking in it every day. And shouldn’t she? The diapers and sleepless nights will soon slide into recitals and homework, which will slip into college tours and wedding announcements.

      Tempus fugit: time flies. But when we turn that around and look at it as Whyte has shown us, we realize it’s been us all along, slipping into infinity. This can be depressing or beautiful, depending on how we choose to spend that time. So bask away, friend. Let those grains of sand tickle a little as they flow past in such a hurry.

    • Little Flower

      “The little flower that opens in the meadows lives and dies in a season; but what agencies have concentrated themselves to produce it! So the human soul lives in the midst of heavenly help.” — Elizabeth Palmer Peabody

      Elizabeth Palmer Peabody was a teacher and a publisher, born in Billerica, Massachusetts, tutored in Greek by Emerson, the first to publish Thoreau, a leading voice in the education of children and the philosophy of transcendentalism. A little flower who moved with the giants and made her mark in her season.

      We are moving through time, together for this brief moment and then apart. Perhaps we’ll meet again on our timelines, perhaps not. We may savor the moment for all it offers or leave it grateful for the lessons we’ve accumulated.

      Learning is a lifelong mission, honed through self-awareness that in turn stirs a belief within that we must become more than this. May that feeling last a lifetime. For that which is not growing is dying, and we have more to do in this world, you and I. Grow and produce something of consequence. Our season is not over yet, little flower.

    • Floating Off the Edge

      “Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.” — Max Ehrmann, Desiderata

      May your hands always be busy
      May your feet always be swift
      May you have a strong foundation
      When the winds of changes shift
      May your heart always be joyful
      May your song always be sung
      May you stay forever young
      — Bob Dylan, Forever Young

      I rewatched The Last Waltz last night, secure in the knowledge that I could turn up the volume as loudly as I wanted to with my bride on the other side of the country (she may still have heard it playing). I was struck by how young each of the performers were. Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Neil Young, Neil Diamond, Emmylou Harris, and even Director Martin Scorsese—they all looked like kids because really, they still were. And The Band, every last one of them gone now, all were at the height of their productive youth. How quickly it all flies by… Tempus fugit.

      That film was the amber of that moment for them, and they’re locked in time. So it was fitting for Dylan to sing Forever Young, and for Scorsese to provide the amber. The Band knew what they were walking away from—the grind of the road, true, but also their youth. There’s lingering sadness at what was left on stage revealed in conversations with each member, especially Rick Danko. No, we aren’t Peter Pan, forever young and living the life of adventure, we all must grow up one day. And so it is that each of the performers have aged and faded away one-by-one. Memento mori.

      Why did I rewatch this film? Maybe it was the music, or maybe to have my own look back on a different time. An industry friend passed away this week. He was twenty years my senior and cancer took him away with a mind as sharp as someone twenty years my junior. Age is just a number—health and vitality are our true currency in life. The body or the mind will surely fail us all one day, so be bold and dance today. And while we’re at it, turn up the volume as loud as we dare. Carpe diem.

      “We’re all in the same boat ready to float off the edge of the world” — The Band, Life is a Carnival

      Maybe I write to capture my own moments in amber, or maybe I’m just leaving breadcrumbs of where I’ve been. We all have our body of work and our faded photographs (or increasingly, lower resolution JPEG’s) that whisper of who we once were in the height of our own productive youth. The trick is to keep producing, to keep dancing, and to lock some particularly shiny moments away in amber while we can, until one day this boat floats off the edge to join all the stars in infinity.

    • Cracking the Shell

      “It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.” — C.S. Lewis

      We all live our ordinary, decent lives, comfortable in our shell. But bless you Clive Staples Lewis for the reminder that we aren’t going to fly anywhere wrapped in comfort and routine. Take a crack out of it and see what opens up.

      There will always be great reasons to put our dreams on hold and focus on keeping the shell intact. The shell has kept us alive, protected us and feels just right most of the time. Sure, we want to grow, and someday we even want to fly, but there’s a time for everything, right?

      Our lives at present may feel a bit upside down, and playing it safe seems the logical thing to do. After all, bad economic policies and reckless idiots are making everything unstable. Prudence seems the right course of action. But prudence isn’t action—prudence is a shell.

      Meanwhile, our runway grows shorter. Tempus fugit: time flies. But will we, in our time? Start now to crack the shell. Or forget about ever flying. The world has plenty of bad eggs already.

    • The Finest of Impulses

      “Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.” — Henry Miller

      Tempus fugit: time flies. And every night I slip into bed feeling like I’d just done it an instant ago. We become what we repeatedly do, as Aristotle reminded us. I remind myself of that every morning and wonder every night, “have I done enough today?” The answer lies in another question: “what is enough for what I want out of life?”

      We might act on our finest impulses today, or not. We might get swept up in the madness in the world. It’s what those creating the madness would like for us, isn’t it? To get swept up makes it easier for us to be swept away. Time is doing that quickly enough, thank you. To navigate life soundly one must have a level head, grit and resolve. So don’t let the bastards grind you down. And to make something out of our time here we must add awareness, focus and an inclination to act on the things we’re focused on. So get to it already.

      If we are derived similarly, it stands to reason that the thing that differentiate one life from another is what we do with the time. To make something glorious, or to tear down everything savagely is just the same in one way only: they both acted on their impulses. What makes one fine and another less so but the judgement of humanity for ever more? If we value those around us and those who would come after us, we ought to be thinking beyond ourselves with the things we produce. To contribute, not to take away. But hey, that’s me talking.

      Anyway, have a nice day. It may be all we’ve got, or a step on our path to personal excellence a series of days from now, but it remains our miracle of the moment. What is one to do with a miracle but make the most of it? And perhaps that’s our call to action with this one. The only thing certain is that it will go quickly. So act on the finest of impulses today.