A time without time
a SUIT column by Chris Jungle

Back in my senior year of high school, my English class had to read Waiting for Godot out loud with students switching roles each day. I think I was Pozzo, but I can't really remember. What I do remember was that the play had no time, which fascinated me. Getting an angst-filled, small-town, pimply-faced smartass like myself fascinated by anything was an accomplishment. During our in-class essay test, I wrote the whole paper on the concept of no time. My teacher said I obsessed a bit too much, and I got a B on the paper.

Flash forward to the present (thanks for going back, by the way), and it's no longer me full of piss and vinegar. It's everything else. This week the stock market freaked out and then apologized, the Chinese came to our soil and people are mad, my job became more unstable with each passing day, and it's national news that a live-in baby sitter (I refuse to say 'au pair') was convicted for killing a baby. I found myself on Wednesday without being called into work, no inspiration to read or write, and a staunch refusal to watch daytime television. So, I ran to my favorite hiding spot: The Sandia Mountains. I hiked around for about an hour and a half on the Embudito (little funnel) Trail when some rocks off to the side caught my eye.

It was a little windy but otherwise a nice day for late October, and I found a spot the sun shined on directly and the surrounding rocks blocked all of the wind. I sat down, took out my yellow lined pad, set my water bottle next to me, and laid back. I can't really explain why, but I sat there until the sun went down. It just felt good to be without cars, or people, or helicopters, or televisions, or Wal-marts. There were just massive rocks, the sound but not the feel of the wind, little curious insects, and the sun shining down. It was a good feeling. No, it was a great feeling.

Then, the revelation hit me. Feeling great supersedes anything and everything else in the world. Schedules don't matter, appointments seem silly, and NBC's Thursday night line up holds no clout. Feeling great makes time irrelevant. Jesus went into the desert for forty days and nights, and I bet he was feeling so good, he didn't even realize he was gone that long. Anytime the devil tempts you and you refuse, it has to be a pretty swell sensation. While I didn't encounter any unearthly beast during my day, I must say I wasn't in a hurry to leave.

Rebuking time even for a little while is very fulfilling. If you think about it, everything in our lives is regulated by time. Most stores close at a certain time, you have to get time off work to do what you really want, couples have to make time to spend with each other. People overload their schedules to the point where there is no time for no time. I know it sounds strange, but we all need to make time to be without time.

Think you're doing something so important with your time that you can't possibly give it up for a while? Then, you need to take a cue from the rocks and trees. They hang out in the same place every day growing and eroding with time being almost an afterthought, and they'll probably live longer than you. Hmmm, maybe ignoring time makes you live longer. What? You don't want to be a rock or a tree? You'd rather be working every weekday, driving through rush hour for a half an hour both ways, get home, cook dinner, watch TV, read a book, go to sleep, and dream of the two week vacation you're going on in three months? Very well, but let it be known to all that you are officially time's bitch. And everyone is allowed to make fun of you.

I'm not saying we can break the chains binding us to time, but every now and then, we should stop thinking about what time it is, what day it is, what month it is, what year it is (yes, that means you millennium freaks), and try and find a good spot to sit with the sun shining on our faces and do nothing else but feel great about it.

Chris Jungle is considering going into the desert for a month to see if devil comes by to pay him a visit.

return to the Shut up, I'm talking page
return to the LIES home page
return to the A&A home page