Have you ever watched the World Population Clock? It’s a website that tracks population growth in real time. It’s about 9 a.m. MT right now and nearly 150,000 new people have already entered into the world today, joining the more than 7.3 billion other inhabitants of planet earth. Have you ever wondered what everyone is up to at any given moment? Personally, my mind is incapable of fathoming the enormity of our planet’s population. How can anyone, or any entity be in control of such a magnificently monstrous mass of people? Even if such a horde could be controlled, what purpose would it serve? People generally tend to form rules, systems, and organizations with a goal in mind — be it peace, safety, material comforts or the pursuit of an idea that is greater than any individual.
Upon the entirety of contemporary humanity, a universal organizational structure has been imposed, designed by antiquity and adapted to modernity, intended to regulate every moment of our lives. The supposed purposes of this system are innumerable, its influence is omnipotent, and yet no one has consciously consented to it, or been offered the option of opting out. If I asked you what its function is, I imagine it would be very difficult for you to come up with a concise answer.
Can you imagine a world devoid of the omnipresent ticking of the clock? It is strange to think that time, as we conceive of it in seconds, minutes, hours, days, etc., is little more than a construct of human ingenuity. Time was not a discovery, but an invention, one that has so deeply entrenched itself into our lives, we have come to define ourselves by it. History itself is a function of time, and most everything that we do on a daily basis is governed by the steady advance of the clock. One of the many oddities of time is that, though the vast majority of humankind is governed by a standard measurement of it, it is a highly subjective and uniquely individual experience.
We do not all value our time equally, and not everyone considers time in the same context. Some of us live minute by minute, or day to day, and others operate on a quarterly, seasonally or semesterly oriented timeline. I cannot speak for everyone, but time, for me, is a measure of my personal efficiency and productivity. I have a horrible habit of using the clock as a measurement of my daily progress. How fast can I crank out an article, or a homework assignment, or a workout? How many emails can I send or calls can I make in an hour? I doubt that this obsession with time is innate in, or natural to human beings. We have been programmed and conditioned to think this way, perhaps to our detriment.
The neurotic observation of time’s perpetual passage serves as a constant reminder of our own mortality. When you begin to think in the oppressive terms of time, you quickly realize that you will never have enough of it. There is an almost inescapable anxiety that arises from knowing that you can never accomplish or experience everything that you would like to in this lifetime. I think that the underlying stress associated with schedules, due-dates, deadlines and appointments is a reflection of our fundamental fear of death. We hurriedly conduct our daily duties, being reminded all the while that we are running out of time, that we are growing older by the second, that our end is inevitable. Sure, most of us aren’t always conscious of this chronic concern, but if you consider the idea for a moment you might recognize it to be true.
If our fear of death truly does tyrannize the way that we spend our time, then, from a societal perspective, every one of us is operating on a comically inadequate, and tragically deleterious timeline. Our ability to comprehend the consequences of our actions is inherently limited to the meager span of our own lifetime. This, in my view, is the reason why we struggle so much with the historically imminent and disturbing, but perceivably abstract and distant problem of climate change, as well as other looming social and environmental issues. How can we be expected to stop and consider the consequences that driving our car will have 30 years in the future when we have to be to work in 30 minutes? How could we have known, or cared, in the midst of World War II the by-products of nuclear weapons would pose a greater threat than Pearl Harbor for millions of years into the future?
Realistically, we can’t be expected to conceive of the future disasters that will result from our present actions and decisions. However, we can limit the number of potential problems that we heap upon posterity by regularly taking the time to slow down, on both an individual and institutional level. Be skeptical of politicians who seem overly eager to enact radical or expansive laws and programs. Be cautious of the salesman who insists that you must buy now. Be weary of the voice inside your head that pressures you to hurry. Remember that there are billions of us on this planet, and hundreds more are pouring in by the minute. There is a lot of power teeming within and among our planetary population, and if we continue to exercise it hastily, we will only expedite our own demise.