What the fuck is time, anyway?

NOTE: This post was originally on my creative writing Substack Summer 2023.

Hey y’all.

First of all, Janelle Monaé released The Age of Pleasure and you should probably go listen if you haven’t, yet. It’s everything I ever wanted it to be.

Time.

What is it, and why does it seem like there’s never, ever enough? Oxford Languages defines time as “the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.” But, capitalism has taught us to feel shameful of the time not spent grinding and acquiring things. So, we walk this earth in a constant state of feeling we are behind or could have done things differently, etc. As a result, we throw our heads down and keep rushing towards the future. Or, we pay people to tell us where to go and what to do in for our futures. Because, making a mistake has become a state of devastation verses a space of learning more about ourselves and the world around us.

I am slowly unlearning rushing to get places. I am slowly unlearning that there’s no right date or time to finish or arrive somewhere. Time and my understanding of it has a very close relationship with struggle to honor myself and my needs. Whenever I have felt pressed for time, the first thing on my list to neglect or put away is whatever is related to my desires. Gahhh, it was so easy I am surprised I even put myself on my own lists. I almost never got to what I needed or wanted. So, as I unravel my misunderstanding of power, timing must come along into the equation.

Even in writing this, it is the second day I’ve had to come back to this post. It’s yet emerging and unfolding. I want it to come together in a nice, tight bow. I want to be able to write 500-800 words on time in one sitting to be a “good writer.” But, this is just where it is right now. My understanding is not fully formed and I hesitate to push the “publish” version. I promised myself that I would allow for continued vulnerability within this accountability container I’ve created. But, I keep thinking as I write this, “Is this even worth the reader’s time?” “What if you loose readers?” “What if people unsubscribe?”

Tonight, I am chanting after these doubt and shame filled questions that “this is for me.” It’s always been for me. And, damnit, this is real life. How many people have perfectly tidy thoughts around ideas like “time” and “power”? This is authentically, and very much me and where I am in life. I plan on honoring that at each stage of this. It is worth it to be a vulnerable mess even if it is only for myself.