Warning: This piece is a very personal reflection on the concept of time and highly likely makes no sense whatsoever to you – my dearest readers. Therefore, I cannot caution you enough to think at least twice before committing five to ten minutes of your time going through my jubrish.
It’s that time of the year, where the passage of time becomes evidently apparent, wrapped under the construct of a modern time tracking cycle we call “a calendar year”.
I can’t recall how many new year resolutions I have ambitiously declared and subsequently became disappointed by for not even attempting them one year later.
It triggers a very interesting question – what is it about the passage of a year, of 52 weeks, of 365 (or 366) days, that ignites the desire in us to aim and act?
Admittedly, there are many functional aspects of our modern time tracking system including providing the same base point globally to measure the passing of time. Individually, this global reference point translates into age.
When I reframe years as age, it dawned on me my heightened desire to aim gloriously into the new year is largely triggered by the acute awareness that the end of a calendar year signals 1/xth closer to the inevitable end of my time in this universe. And that, is a very scary thought. And that scary thought introduces a fear-based sense of urgency.
In many ways, I am grateful for it – for having led me to take actions, to set audacious goals and achieve many, to be obsessed with efficiency and productivity, and to rush through my checklists.
What I didn’t realise was how it had also manifested into an intense desire to arrive at certain places in life before age X. And the end-of-a-year reflection season is the perfect time to take stock of whether or not I’ve arrived at these places. This annual assessment would often result in sleepless nights and trigger deeper-rooted anxiety. Because no matter how hard I tried, there would always be the next place to arrive at or these another places that my friends are at where I am evidently not.
It didn’t occur to me for too long the more important questions to ask: What are these places? Why do I want to arrive there? What happens after I arrive?
In one of my all-time favourite TV shows (dare I call it a piece of art to be more precise :)),
Soldiers Sortie (士兵突击) aired almost two decades ago in China, there was a dialogue that took place between a character Yuan Lang (袁朗) who was the Captain of a special force and a soldier Cheng Cai (成才) who just went through a bootcamp selecting and enlisting top soldiers into this special force.
If you are still with me here, I watched this show on and off in high school. All I took from it then was how attractive these characters are. More than a decade later, I found myself replaying this conversation between the two characters over and over, only realising something profound had stuck with me.
Yuan Lang said to Cheng Cai at the final assessment review of the bootcamp:
你经历的每个地方, 每个人, 每件事都需要你付出时间和生命. 可你从来没付出感情. 你总是冷冰冰的把他们扔掉. 那你的努力是为了什么? 为一个结果虚耗人生? 你该想的不是怎么成为一个特种兵, 是善待自己做好普通一兵.
Every path you’ve taken, everyone you’ve connected with, and everything you’ve experienced in life need investment of your time, effort and emotions. But you have never invested them. You go through life with your eyes and ears closed, blindly checking things off your list then walk away and move on. Then what are you hustling or making any efforts for – only to achieve some end outcomes or goals? What a waste of life. What you should be focused on is not how to become an elite special force soldier, but how to learn to be an ordinary one that’s kind to yourself and those around you.
It’s incredible how big an impact beautiful men would have on my life 🙂
I can’t put my fingers around when this scene first resonated, but it grew on me to a point where it became so clear that Yuan Lang was almost looking directly at me and speaking directly to me.
As someone who’s always been so publicly proud of the number of cities and countries I’ve lived in, the number of destinations I’ve travelled to, the number of different cultural experiences I’ve collected – for once, I wasn’t sure whether I had ever “invested my time, effort and emotions” sufficiently in this journey, or whether I was “wasting my life” in the vain search for “some end outcomes or goals” or whether I’ve ever learnt to “be an ordinary one that’s kind to myself and those around me”.
Because otherwise, what have I been rushing for?
Rushing to claim that I’ve lived in X number of cities in Y years? Rushing to collect certain titles and levels that are artificially constructed in an organisation? Rushing to cumulate certain numbers in a bank account? Rushing to travel to X number of countries and collect those passport stamps? … Rushing to claim victory that I’ve spent my time productively on this planet at the end of all these?
We may all have these “destinations” that we care about and rush to arrive at. On the back of our minds, we are probably all so acutely aware of the finitude of our time.
But what if, what if I am already right where I am meant to be? What if, it’s okay to not obsess over productivity? What if instead of creating more lists to check off, I give time the time to just be?
What if the richness of our time is not measured by the numbers on the lists we check off, but by the roots we build, the positive impacts we enable and the connections we create?
What if we look no further than nature, where –
Time passes by like running water. And running water has got no concept of days/ weeks/ years. It runs through the ground following laws of physics like nobody’s business. It doesn’t rush. And it rushes nobody. It follows its own laws and rhythms.
Roots of ancient trees filter, cycle and enrich the running water. They are powerful beings, deeply rooted in their communities. They grow taller and taller, manifest denser branches and provide shelters for lives around them. They are not rushing anywhere. They are right where they are meant to be, quietly and reliably enabling the lives around them.
If there’s one new year resolution I could have – I think I would wish to become an Amazonian tree: deeply rooted in the ground, intimately aware and connected with the running water passing through, quietly but surely enriching her community and the lives around her with her unwavering presence.
What are your new year resolutions?