Time Lost--Part 2

Is it any different 100 years after Laura Ingalls Wilder's questions? Twenty-first century technological toys make so many tasks even that much quicker to do. Yet how many people who've chosen to buy these things then feel rushed, pressured, and complain about not having enough time to do things? Many folks would love to find some “leisure time,” but never seem to. Email, texting, and Facebook allow us to communicate instantly with a large number of “friends.” Yet how often are people able or inclined to take the time to sit down and engage in a conversation with a friend or loved one? Instant microwave dinners or a pizza delivery provide a meal in short order, yet people gulp their food on the run; avoiding sitting down together to share a meal and conversation.

Wilder never attempts to answer her question of “What became of the time we saved.” In the short columns she penned, she chose not to go into many details; but she was also raising a rhetorical question, I believe. She knew well why we become so rushed, despite our fast cars and speedy machines, and I'm sure she could have waxed eloquently on about the paradox.

So let me hazard a guess about the cause, based on my experiences these last three decades in a rural setting. Shortly after we began our life out here, I found it fascinating (but at times unpleasant) that homestead tasks required so many hours each day. Some of that work was menial and slow... even boring. I often wondered about getting a machine to help me do things faster. But by and large I resisted that urge, because I also found myself able to pause frequently while laboring at some task and “take the time” to watch a bird or ponder a thought for a while. Having to spend so much time laboring, I was also free to slow down and engage with life.

What we seem to lose, when we acquire labor-saving, time-saving machines, is time to slow down and think; to pay attention to our world. It's such a lure to turn around and invest the time we save in acquiring a technological convenience by simply taking on another duty—making our life more complex. We live in a culture that values accomplishing and acquiring things; and in America we pretty much have the economic wherewithal to pursue them.

We all want to be happy. Our culture teaches us that getting things is the path to happiness. This process has become so ingrained in our society that we are hardly able to see the contradiction: the more we pursue things, the less happy we are; the more we acquire “time-saving” devices, the less time we have. Laura Ingalls Wilder eloquently described the conundrum.

Many sages and philosophers of the past have tried to point out the trap we fall into, when we invest so much energy into grasping for more. We humans have a problem reigning in our desires; to the point that our desires often control us. We tell ourselves that having just a little more (money, time...) will be so satisfying that we'll finally and truly be happy. We tell ourselves that buying this computer or smart phone will allow us to accomplish our online tasks more quickly and open up a little leisure time—when we just add to the number of online things we do and feel even more rushed. Email promises the ability to communicate with friends far faster than snail mail ever allowed—only to allow us to lengthen our list of “friends” we try to keep track of. And now we can text much faster than email!

I find it fascinating to read the words of a writer 100 years ago who described the same dilemma, when her slow-moving horse was turned out to pasture, in favor of the speedy motor car. Rushing to her meeting in her new auto, Laura Ingalls Wilder was able to pause (later) long enough to ask, “What became of the time the motor car saved us? Why was everyone late and in a hurry?” Those questions remain relevant, a century later. Is this progress?