the illusion of time

stop. take a deep breath and for the next few minutes, allow yourself to let go of the pressure of being productive all the time and just exist with me here on this page.

time is weird. like, really weird. we measure it in hours and minutes, in deadlines and due dates, in milestones we are told to reach by a certain age. we say things like “i don’t have enough time for this” or “i wasted so much time today” as if time is this tangible thing we can hold, spend or lose.

we’ve been conditioned to believe that every second of our lives has to be spent being productive. working, achieving, improving. we feel guilty doing nothing—at least i sure find myself here. it seems like we have started shaming ourselves for rest. we think time only has worthy value if we can measure it in accomplishments.

but what if time isn’t something to be spent wisely? what if it’s just something to be lived?

think about it: who actually gets the power to define what counts as ‘productive’ and ‘meaningful’? scrolling on your phone for an hour is considered wasting time, but spending that same hour reading a book isn’t. lying in bed listening to music and staring at the ceiling is seen as lazy, but sitting through a lecture even if you absorb nothing is considered worthwhile.

what’s the difference?

it all comes down to perception really. perception is the ability to see, hear or become aware of something through the senses or the state of being and becoming aware of something through your senses. truly, those five senses we learned about in kindergarten are superpowers.

but what’s even more powerful? how we interpret what our senses take in. two people can stand in the same place, feel the same breeze, hear the same song drifting through the air, and yet, their experiences may be entirely different. one might hear nostalgia in the melody, while the other simply registers background noise. one might find the cool wind refreshing, while another feels a sudden chill of loneliness. perception isn’t just about what we sense—it’s about how we assign meaning to it.

think about time: we measure it in hours, minutes, and seconds, but that measurement doesn’t always align with how we experience it. an hour spent in deep conversation with a friend can feel like five minutes, while five minutes waiting for an important phone call can stretch into eternity. this isn’t just a trick of the mind—it’s proof that perception shapes our reality.

so what does that mean for us? it means we hold the power to shift our experience of life by shifting our perception. boredom can become stillness, loneliness can become solitude, and wasted time can become rest. our senses may take in the world as it is, but our minds have the final say in what it means.

today, society has trained us to assign value to time. we glorify activity that create external results. but life isn’t always about that. it’s about feeling, experiencing, being. what if we change our perception to letting that outcome being joy. if something brings you joy, even if it may serve no greater purpose—how could that ever be a waste of time?

we live in a world where people wear their busyness like a badge of honor. where burnout is mistaken for success. where the grind is glorified to the point that exhaustion is seen as a sign of dedication.

somewhere along the way, society convinced us that our worth is tied to what we do. that our value comes from output.

how often have you told yourself, “i’ll relax once i finish this”? but the to-do list never ends. it just refills. one thing checked off, ten more added. the goalpost always moves.

and yet, the moments we actually remember? the late-night talks, the deep belly laughs, the spontaneous adventures, the times we felt alive—those never felt productive. they just were. and yet, they’re the ones that stick.

here is something to think about: time, as we understand it, is an invention. yes, the sun rises and sets (in the most beautiful of ways), seasons change, our bodies age, but the way we measure time stays the same—it is a human construct.

ancient civilizations didn’t have the same rigid time structures we do today. many indigenous cultures viewed time as cyclical, not linear. even today, different societies interpret time differently—some cultures value strict punctuality, while others embrace fluidity and present-moment living.

so if time is something we made up, why do we let it control us so much?

why does rest make us feel guilty? why do we instinctively apologize for taking a break, sleeping in, or simply existing without a clear ‘purpose’?

this guilt is deeply ingrained. we’ve been taught to believe that time is a currency—something that can be spent well or wasted carelessly. and because of that, we internalize the idea that every second should be accounted for.

but imagine telling a child they’re wasting time by playing. imagine telling an artist they’re wasting time by daydreaming. imagine telling yourself that just being isn’t enough.

because at the root of this idea is something insidious: the belief that we are not enough unless we are doing something.

but what if we are? what if just existing is enough?

is it spending hours studying to pass an exam? grinding at a job you hate to pay for a future you’re too busy to enjoy? is it always being on, always chasing something?

or is it lying on the grass watching the clouds move? getting lost in a conversation that stretches on for hours? doing something just because it makes your heart feel light?

if the goal of life is to experience it, why are we so obsessed with measuring it?

the poet mary oliver once wrote:

"tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

notice she didn’t ask how much you’ll accomplish. she asked how you’ll live.

plato once suggested that time is merely the moving image of eternity. in his view, time is an illusion—a way for humans to make sense of existence, but not an actual constraint on the soul.

buddhism teaches a similar idea: that suffering comes from attachment, and one of our biggest attachments is to time. we cling to the past, we obsess over the future, but we forget to be here.

the stoics, on the other hand, believed that the only thing within our control is how we respond to the present moment. they would argue that time isn’t something to fear or hoard, but something to accept and flow with.

so if some of the greatest thinkers in history have told us that time is not something to be owned or wasted, why do we keep trying to control it?

i’ve asked a lot of questions today, and not all of them need an answer, just to spark thought. because maybe the key isn’t to maximize every second, maybe it’s just to allow ourselves to exist in the moment, without guilt.

so go ahead—spend an entire afternoon doing nothing. romanticize the little moments. let time pass without constantly trying to use it. because at the end of the day, time isn’t something you win or lose. it’s just something you have.

if you’ve made it this far, thank you for sitting in this thought with me. i don’t have all the answers, but i know this: you are not a machine. you are not defined by how much you produce.

sending so much love to everyone and i am so proud of you.