“I have time when I am not conscious of time which presses in upon me in its empty quality, as lifeless time. He who has leisure thereby disposes of boundless time; he lives in the fullness of time, be he active or at rest.”
Friedrich Juenger, The Failure of Technology
I find these lines stunning. Indeed, they scare me. Reading them was one of those difficult moments, when with a combination of excitement and fear I get short of breath. Convinced there is an insight here we have simply lost—and one that makes a great difference in life—I struggle to reckon with it.
The experience is heightened by its immediate connection for me with another line that lives in my memory and haunts me. It is one of the closing lines in Hilaire Belloc’s great essay ‘The Mowing of a Field.’ There he describes a day laborer who helped him ‘mow,’ i.e., by hand with a scythe, his field:
He went off with a slow and steady progress, as all our peasants do, making their walking a part of the easy but continual labor of their lives.
Somehow that sentence has always signaled for me something I crave in my life, yet something elusive and difficult to identify or put into words. And much more, to seek and actualize.
To heighten the drama, the quoted words from Juenger come in the context of his explaining the effects of mechanized technology. Just prior to the above quotation, he asserts, “[Technology] has brought about a situation where man no longer has time, where he is destitute of time, where he is hungry for time.” And, “To the extent to which lifeless time can be exploited mechanically, it begins to encroach upon man’s life time and to hem it in from all sides.”
Here we are swimming in deep waters; waters, again, in which I struggle to get a breath. This much I know: I have a problem with how I live in time. I often experience myself as trapped, and indeed as hemmed in on all sides—sides that can seem to close in on me.
How to move toward a solution? First, I resolve to take a closer look at this issue of time, both as a universal phenomenon of our age and as a challenge in my particular life circumstances. (And I plan to share here the fruits of my reflections, whatever they might be.) Second, Juenger has already fingered for us the philosophical heart of the solution. In brilliant Aristotelian fashion, he turns to the centrality of leisure, and its inseparable tie to the daily work of life.
To get time right, we must get leisure right. Leisure is always the first principle. Leisure in its true sense transcends time. And for this very reason, it alone is what makes time come alive, bringing it to its fruition—even when we are at work.
Looking at my own life I realize that my consistent experience of being short on time means at least this: I am failing in living the primacy of leisure, the leisure that “disposes of boundless time!”
Finally, I realize that I must reflect more on the notion of lifeless time versus living time, and how this relates to technology. Juenger emphasizes a connection between the place of technology in our lives—our home, work, and broader economy—and our experience of time. He challenges us to recognize the strong influence of technology on the contexts that in turn either conduce to or undermine the abundant life we so crave. And he was writing in 1939.
~ ~ ~
To pursue leisure further… several short videos clarify the concepts of leisure, work, and amusement. Start with the Concepts Made Clear video below, and especially be sure to see What Leisure Has to Do with the Meaning of Life.
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Terrific vid and post. For most of life I was an architect. Time spent at ‘work’ was pretty close to how I’d spend leisure time: drawing, making models, thinking about how things work, fixing things around the house or on the cars. We retired in 2017 to Ecuador: no car, no air conditioning or heat, relatively limited consumer goods. I’m still doing the same leisure stuff I did before, plus we have a garden now. We also do a lot more things together, e.g., spend an hour or so in the courtyard each morning with coffee. Or run errands together, walking of course. Our life is kind of like the peasant you mention. In some sense, walking is a part of the errands, and a good use of our time. I used to anticipate that retirement should be like life in Eden: one didn’t have to work, per se, but one still needed to tend the garden. Life these days is a lot like that.
Wow; that sounds beautiful, Christian. May your TIME grow ever fuller. I love to think of all that walking…
A dilemma. And truly a timeless one that’s worth the pun. Of course children, and each of us as once we were, have no dilemma. Time for them truly is boundless in that there is hardly any consideration of it. A one week Christmas break from elementary school was a fantastically long time with only the night before its ending dawning on us we’d be going back to school the next day. Summer vacation? The consideration that it would have an ending never entered one’s thoughts. When it did end, it wasn’t even anything associated with remorse, but rather as if a whole new world was about to begin.
But we lost that perspective as we entered adulthood. The loss occurs on a gradual basis, perhaps almost imperceptible at first. Yet it is a relentless process in that as we get on in years, and (no question about this), it escalates – one might even go so far as to describe the sense of time loss anxiety as growing exponentially. How ironic in a way.
Children hardly have to consider tomorrow in the sense of how their actions today will affect the future. But all we do as adults is consider today in the context of what that will mean for tomorrow. Perhaps that is part and parcel of being a responsible adult. On the other hand, given the likelihood that the chores of today are hardly different than what they were a year ago, there is something suspicious and downright scary that our anxiety has increased and seems to continue to do so. I do not think it is a subconscious reference to the fact that death is that much closer, because it is not as if we are trying to get things done before that end point. Rather, we just want to get them done and feel as though we just don’t have enough time.
A small example. I put in a garden – both vegetables and flowers – every year. Why is it that my anxiety of not having it done during that entire process overwhelms me now whereas my memory of years ago such a worry was never present? I know that this dynamic is wrong and I also know people in my family who were as productive as possible, but somehow figured out how to be joyful every moment of every day without worrying (it seemed). I don’t know how they did it.
Bob, As usual, your comment raises great issues. I will share one thought that struck me in reading your words. You speak of the change from childhood to adulthood. This is indeed complex. Yes, certainly, as ‘responsible’ adults we cannot be as carefree as children. But then again, it seems to me that some of what we chalk up to maturing is in fact not natural or universally the case but rather is a sign of the perversity of our times. Not to argue that childhood is the human ideal, but we can find in children many key dispositions that we should NOT ever lose. A characteristic of our age is to be obsessed with productivity–and this is deeply connected to our angst about time. In conclusion, I do think–and I think you’ll agree–there is much we can do to try to improve our experience of and ‘use’ of time. And in some sense, this will mean a rediscovering, in a deeper, richer way, of what we had as children. We will need to keep thinking about just how to do it…
Dear John, thank you for this most recent post about Time. I learned recently this quote, “Time isn’t the enemy; time is a gift”. I don’t know where it came from but it really resonates with me.
Recently I took the “time” to go down to the shore during a super low tide and explore the tide pools. I met a woman who is a marine biologist and she spent probably 90 minutes with me as we explored, discovered and exclaimed at the wonders visible to us. I didn’t have any conception of the time we spent together but when the sun began it’s fall I knew it was time to head home.
As I walked home I wondered to myself why I don’t take time to be free of the constraints I put on myself. I am retired, after all, with no other family obligations here than that of wife. So why do I continue to rush around and when there is an empty spot on my calendar, feel compelled to fill it?
I will read this post more than once, and try to work towards really taking more time for leisure, the true leisure that brings me closer to our Creator God. The leisure as He intends it to be.
Thank you for this post. It is very timely.
Sincerely,
Denise R.
Dear Denise, I love what you share here. I can hear the waves crashing. There is something so vital about the experience of time having ‘flown by’ as if it weren’t moving it all. Surely this points us to what is beyond time, but can nonetheless very much come INTO time, and transform how we live in time. Let us keep working on this together.
Wonderful post. When I left my prosecutorial career a few years back and shifted to part time teaching, I had many plans for classical leisure. Something I looked forward to. But I planned & God laughed. Stents in the widow-maker, deaths in the family, and four surgeries in five years changed the plans. Little did I know, though, but for the better, My marriage is even stronger, my faith as well, and now together with my wife we look ahead to the new adventure. And with less interference from Tolkien’s machine…today’s tech!
Bob, I trust that God’s smiling Providence will bring you an ever greater richness–perhaps a deeper kind of ‘leisure’ that looks a bit different from what we expect, but is all the better. God bless you in the adventure!
Dear Dr. Cuddeback,
Thank you for your post. I especially welcome the opportunity to philosophize about time, because I’ve been wrestling recently with how to best spend my evenings after work. With the many summer projects I feel I ought to get to, my evenings sometimes feel more cramped than my workday. (Although to be fair, I’m blessed to have a job in software development which I very much enjoy because it’s almost identical to what I do for fun.)
After reading your post, I wondered if you had connected the concept of “leisure time” or “living time” as used by Juenger to the idea of aeviternity? Leisure time and aeviternity (at least as I understand it) seem similar in that they are composed not of a continuous division of minutes, hours, etc. defined by a clock, but instead by episodes/activities. For example, when we eat dinner with friends, or read a book, or pray, we do not constrain ourselves to some specific duration of wall-clock time, but rather begin the activity when convenient and continue it till a natural conclusion. This also seems to be the way that animals, plants, and other non-human living things operate: while their lives are certainly not timeless in the sense of Eternity (which of course belongs to God alone), and though their actions are of course structured around the time of day, the time of year, etc., this structuring is not like the mechanical structuring of modern life, where our actions are planned down to the minute. Could we say that these activities are in a sense “timeless”, for, during any such activity, the numeric wall-clock time is irrelevant? When we are truly engrossed in reading or conversation or prayer, the passing of numeric time seems to be forgotten, and the time of the whole activity blends together. Do you think we can relate that to the episodic nature of aeviternity?
I also wondered if this might be what Juenger means by “living” time? It seems to be the kind of time we see in other living things, and one also might call it “living” because it bends easily and flows smoothly, like a living thing. By contrast, it does seem reasonable to call the numeric time of the modern world “mechanical”, since we use mechanisms (clocks) to start and stop our tasks at specified numeric times and intervals, no matter how unnatural to the activity. We even put the liberal arts into predefined class periods, and move on to the next subject at the end of a period, even if we have to break off an excellent discussion.
But on further consideration, I wonder if this distinction between activity-periods and number-periods isn’t the real distinction between living/mechanical time? I think the liberal arts can still be truly “liberal” even when done in a predefined class period, and conversely, it seems we can be “mechanical” without having rigid periods involved. E.g., someone slogging through a particularly tiresome reading assignment or working down an over-packed todo list may not be constrained by numeric time periods, and yet their experience of time would probably fall under Juenger’s idea of “lifeless” time.
I happened to reread Tolkien’s Leaf by Niggle recently, and I realized when thinking about this question of leisure and labor and time after reading your post that Tolkien’s story might provide some insight into the problem. Here’s a brief summary of the parts which I think are most relevant to the question:
At the beginning of the story, Niggle is focused entirely on what at first glance seems to be a leisurely activity: painting a picture of a wondrous tree. He doesn’t get as much time to work on his picture as he would like, because he is frequently called upon to do various chores and tasks for other people. He sees these tasks as interruptions, and is always anxious about getting through them as quickly as possible and getting back to his Tree. Eventually, he has to go off on his “journey” (which fairly obviously represents death), and his canvas (unfinished) is used for building repairs.
After his “journey”, he is placed in the “Workhouse Infirmary” (which seems to represent Purgatory). Here are a few quotes describing his time there: “He had to work hard, at stated hours: at digging, carpentry, and painting bare boards all one plain color.” “He lost count of time.” “Poor Niggle got no pleasure out of life, not what he had been used to call pleasure. … But it could not be denied that he began to have a feeling of — well, satisfaction: bread rather than jam. He could take up a task the moment one bell rang, and lay it aside promptly the moment the next one went, all tidy and ready to be continued at the right time. He had no ‘time of his own’ (except alone in his bed-call), and yet he was becoming master of his time … There was no sense of rush.”
He eventually is released from the Infirmary, and sent off to a green country where he suddenly comes upon his Tree, the Tree from his picture, now actualized into a real living and growing tree. And yet there is still work to be done on his creation, work which he is now able to plan and execute well.
Does this story give insight to our questions about time, I wonder? Niggle’s labor in the infirmary is definitely more mechanically structured and more physically taxing than his intellectual and leisurely work on his picture before his journey, and yet his time in the infirmary is paradoxically both more fulfilling and less stressful than his earlier work on the picture. Perhaps the difference between living time and lifeless time is fundamentally about our outlook/mentality, not the details of how we structure our time? It seems that in the ideal case, the distinction between labor and leisure entirely melts away (or maybe it is no longer “labor”): when Niggle works on his actualized Tree, he is truly working and truly at leisure. Maybe the distinction was also absent in Eden before the Fall, as another commenter suggested.
After the Fall, a complete reunion of labor and leisure is probably impossible, but it seems we can narrow the gash by looking at things differently. I’m unsure how to define this “leisurely mentality” though. It seems to have something to do with whether we’re focused on getting on to the next thing, or instead really accept the task at hand, which would fit with Aristotle’s idea that leisure is done for its own sake. One image that came to mind when reflecting on this was an long, straight highway stretching out into the distance. If we only focus on the horizon, no matter how quickly we rush ahead, it will never be fast enough to satisfy us, because our view will always be the same endless road ahead of us. Perhaps this is the “boundless” and “empty” time that Juenger speaks of? Maybe the “fullness” of time consists in the appreciation of where you are on the road, and from where you have come? For the scenery around a road can be enjoyed at many speeds, although walking or even sitting is best, but a continually receding “end” cannot be enjoyed at all, because it does not really exist. Matthew 6:25-34 also seems to confirm that “living” time has something to do with living in the present like the birds and the flowers.
But then again, I wonder if the idea of appreciating the present, or “stopping to smell the roses”, so to speak, also fails to grasp the core of the issue? It seems to place too much weight on an aesthetic experience. Niggle’s feeling of “satisfaction”, of “bread rather than jam” was probably not based on an appreciation of the inherent beauty of ditch digging. Or then again, maybe it was, but a different kind of beauty than we usually think about? I suppose that a job well done always has proportion, clarity, and integrity (which I think St. Thomas says are the three qualities of all beautiful things), and thus is beautiful. What do you think? Was Niggle appreciating that sort of beauty in a task completed, or did his satisfaction come from something else, such as the new proportion, clarity, and integrity in his own soul created by his growing virtue? What would we call this virtue?
I’d be very happy to hear any further thoughts you might have. Thanks again for the invitation to think about this!
-Ambrose
Ambrose, You have given me much to think about here! Thank you. I will digest this a bit, and then come back and update this comment. I really appreciate your sharing your thoughts here.
Dr. Cuddeback, I am so happy to have happened on this site thanks to The Loop! My husband died in December and I am finding I have a golden opportunity to reinvent myself. So much of what you said in the series of videos is resonating with me. After three careers I’m struggling to figure out what to do with my newfound leisure time. I have commented that I’ve worked for so long that I don’t even know what I enjoy doing anymore. I retired as a Navy Officer, took up home schooling all five children, and then when they were old enough that I felt I could spend some evenings away, I picked back up with music, which had provided my college education through a full scholarship. Additionally, I cared for my father until he died and my husband who had many health issues. Work has defined my life for as long as I can recall and there just wasn’t leisure time.
As I write this, I have to smile because a dear friend, also a musician, and I years ago decided we were no longer going to say that we “play” the piano because it gives an entirely wrong impression and seems to allow people to assume that since it’s apparently such a pleasurable activity, we should do it free. I changed my statements from, “I’m going to rehearsal,” to “I’m going to work.” I felt it was the only way to get respect for what I did and it was hard work, often for very little pay. What kept me going for the 30 years I performed, was the satisfaction of achievement and the joy I could bring to others, but also the respect I received from fellow musicians.
When COVID dried up all the performing, I found I didn’t miss it, and now with few external sources of order in my life, I have opportunities I’m struggling to clarify. I do love teaching and curricular development, so I’m running our parish Religious Education Program and teaching one of the classes (all as a volunteer), as well as teaching piano to six grandchildren and providing other supplemental instruction as requested, but I feel I’m missing something. I spend too much time, as we said in the Navy, “oscillating on station.”
I will end this and continue with your series. Can’t wait to hear your recommendations for leisure! I do recognize that I am WAY too goal oriented. I’m trying to recapture the childlike delights of my youth and I think I’m sadly deficient in beach time. One of my favorite books is Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift From the Sea. I think it’s time to reread it.