The past few days my writing has been deeply personal, which is fine, but not the sort of reflections appropriate to post online.

Since I’ve always been a proponent of airing your dirty laundry privately, I’ve done just that. Wrote it, read it, then discarded it.

I’ve spoken about that process in an earlier post , there’s no need to detail it here.

Although those entries are gone, there were plenty of seeds within them that will germinate in their due course. It’s those I will be writing about at some point as they coalesce into something solid.

While personal accounts are wonderful as a connection point, especially to those who are going through something similar, it can be incredibly tempting to give up any bit of privacy a person has left.

A person who shares a personal anecdote periodically can capture the emotional capacity of their audience–getting them to recognize the person in front of them is human as well.

Getting too personal… with everything… it’s just not a step I’m willing to make in an online forum.

I share a lot.
I struggle a lot.
I succeed a lot.

But many parts of my personal life still remain my own and I always need to ensure that I draw the line between personal and reflective pieces.

For now, it’s Canada, the weather just turned into real Spring (our fake one had two bouts of snow) and I’m off to enjoy it.

The ancient Greek philosopher, Seneca, had this to say about time:

Men are thrifty in guarding their private property, but as soon as it comes to wasting time, they are most extravagant with the one commodity for which it’s respectable to be greedy

There is something to be said of the time we have right now. While the frustrations of social distancing can dominate the psyche, there’s an opportunity to look for something bigger.

The traditional thieves of time used to come in engagements with others you didn’t care for or extra work you were guilted into finishing. These often came in large denominations of days, afternoons or evenings.

The thieves of the hours came through the mindless entertainment of television—watching something because it’s on and not because you’re interested.

Today, there are much craftier thieves of time who steal it in slivers, but cause it to evaporate by a thousand cuts. These are the thieves of digital distraction whose most common name is “Just checking,” but what makes them really vicious is they occupy your mental state all day.

All those thieves are hard to combat when life is moving so fast.

However, now, there’s an opportunity to stop them.

I am not getting any younger. Neither is my family.

As frustrating as days can be, I’m getting an incredibly large chunk of uninterrupted time to enjoy them right now.

I don’t know what the future will hold.

I do my best to prepare for it and to take advantage of the opportunities available, but I cannot assume an outcome.

This time has taught me to be an even greater guardian of the time I have.

I hope it does the same for others.

It’s been a mental understanding of mine that people come into your life for a period of time.

It might be for a season or for good, but you should never assume the latter. If it’s only for a season, there is a likelihood of running into each other again.

In that event, whatever stasis you left each other on continues as though the resume button has been pressed.

That’s why I always felt it fitting to never say goodbye, but rather “see you later.”

There’s a twinge of guilt in doing so, however, because this mentality could have others mistaking my lack of connection as an arrogant cold shoulder. People are never forgotten, even if it seems that way.

Then, it occurs to me, perhaps I should let those people know I haven’t forgotten them. That I hold them dear to my heart, hope they’re doing well and look forward to a day when circumstances allow us to connect again.

It’s connecting with many people across time and seeing where they are in the present moment. The reconnection has been invigorating and heart warming.

Just the things we need right now.

Growing up, I had an obsession with speed.

It was about getting things done in the fastest time possible, with the smallest amount of downtime. There was a false equation stuck in the recesses of my mind that faster equaled mastery.

To say I had (and somewhat still) a heavy foot while driving is an understatement and I bequeath my good fortune of only getting one speeding ticket—ever—to someone really looking out for me. The immature brain lodged in my skull dictated that driving fast meant getting places faster and showed great skill.

Then were the attempts at learning speed reading (more books, faster!), increasing my typing speed (100wpm+ or bust!), dictation, power-gaming, HIIT workouts… and the list goes on.

Perhaps it’s the physical rhythm of my body slowing down, or some wisdom has seeped into the empty space between my ears, but I’ve reversed course.

I’m teaching myself how to slow down.

I can comfortably “speed-read” at 700wpm, but ignore that glorified skimming skill to enjoy the text I’m in. The net result has allowed me to read more complicated works with ease, understanding them more and completing them in greater volume.

I can comfortably type between 90-100wpm, but my mornings are spent with my pen and notebook, enjoying a coffee, with my daughter beside me on the couch as we both wake up. When I sit down at the keyboard, I slow my fingers down to a slower pace to allow my thoughts to get ahead of my typing. The net result has been a greater volume of writing, finishing more and finishing “faster.”

All these attempts to speed-up were not in vain, but merely misguided.

It’s the deliberate actions, taken with care, that gets more done at a faster pace.

However, I’m still working on the driving part.

Nine weeks into quarantine and I find myself spending the evenings binge watching lectures.

These are lectures/courses that have been in my buffer for a long while and now I’m powering through them. The topics are all over the map: workshop model in the classroom, mastering Google Sheets, the craft of writing, religion and the modern world… and a few others.

As I do my best to absorb as much as possible (let’s not kid ourselves, I won’t get the time to re-watch them all anytime soon), it’s clear this learning is not comprehensive.

As detailed as they are and with the infinite number of them available, there are two things I keep in mind:

1. The learning is useless unless action is taken.
2. There’s always something more to learn.

Point one–I could learn a million parts about a subject, but unless that knowledge is practiced, it’s not being used.

There’ s a major difference between hearing it and applying it. The gap between the two is only bridged with practice.

Point two–it’s impossible to learn everything and the more you learn about a topic, the more you realize how little you know. The moment a person thinks they know it all, they become stagnant and resistant to growth.

Even with this framework, one thing is clear:

I could live a hundred lives and there will always be something more to learn. No one is ever a master.

Sometimes, I just like to watch the world.

I don’t cast judgement on it, interpret it or find meaning in it. I just watch.

We live fascinating lives with incredible amounts of experience, each one bringing something new to nudge humanity forward just a little more. It’s incredible how arrogant we can be when we cut ourselves off from seeing the life of another.

We speak universal languages of love, loss and hope.
We share in the gift of friendship.
We are all broken.
We all want the best of what life can offer.

And yet, we can miss it all if we are absorbed into our own lives.

I envy the older people who sat out front of the coffee shops, watching the people go by and yelling at each other because the sky is blue. Life is not the same for them and yet, it’s never been better. They live in a golden era within their minds while living in the best time for humanity.

I envy the younger people whose worlds are the neighbourhood around them, but can feel like an entire continent of exploration. They don’t know boredom because everything is new and everything is play.

I envy the teenagers who are experiencing the entire gamut of human emotions in the most intense way for the first time. They will never be happier or more miserable and they will never know any better.

I envy those who are finding love for the first time—real love. The realization this is something beyond the moment and the recognition they will do anything to hold onto it.

There is so much to see and so much more to be envious of if you are willing to take a closer look.

It’s simply a matter of sitting back and just watching.

I’ve often wondered whether we should focus our efforts on space or time.

I’ve come to the conclusion space holds more wonder, mystery and excitement for us—an opportunity to push our imaginations to the limit.

Time, it appears, is a self-serving endeavor.

Consider two breakthrough inventions: interstellar travel and time travel.

Interstellar travel would allow us to expand our horizons to the stars, seeking out even more of what this universe has to offer. It would be an opportunity to discover other habitable planets, witness cosmic events and potentially meet other life.

Time travel would allow us to see into our past and future, but consider the ramifications.

Who would it serve?

What would you do if given an opportunity to travel through time?

Our answer to that question is rarely altruistic.

Even in the religious context, there’s been a greater focus on time than space. It’s an obsession with the present moment, sacred time or eternity. Actions are guided as a means to get access to the prize (mainly one with eternity).

However, if the focus were to shift to sacred space, consider the consequences.

We would no longer look at specific buildings as sacred grounds. We would recognize, with our understanding of how the water system works, all water is holy. The holiness doesn’t magically stop at the end of rivers or is somehow contained in small indoor fountains.

Any place can be considered sacred if it’s treated in such a way. Early Christian doctrine held that God wrote the book of nature and the book of God. To read one is to understand the other.

As our space is taken away from us, perhaps this is the perfect time to revisit the idea of focusing on space and letting go of our self-serving notions of time.

A friend sent me this Married…with Children Reunion special.

It’s striking that within the first five minutes, the actors of the show acknowledge their initial reaction to the script–finding it rude, cruel and accepting it would be instantly pulled off the air.

Watching the show, you forget there’s a disconnect between the character the actor. Outside the character is a person with their own worldview, struggles, hangups and joys.

We often forget to look outside the character to see the person.

As quarantine extends, more videos are popping up of celebrities showing their struggles at home. It’s a breaking of the 4th wall and a true glimpse into something audiences we forget:

We’re all just people.

From royalty to leaders to writers pumping out reflections on a blog with the occasional book, there’s a person who is working through the same issues we all have.

Instead of looking at the character and casting judgement, look at the person.

No matter what stage in life we are in, there will always be an opportunity for excuses.

Changing circumstances will give the outlet we need to justify not pursuing or following through on what is needed. It provides the perfect conduit for the dreaded line,

“When things (fill in the blank)…”
calm down, are different, are setup in such and such a way, etc.

However, when you look at a disciplined person, none of those excuses come to the surface.

I was on the road with a team of people for a year. We had erratic hours, little sleep, stayed in different homes almost every night and had little, if any, downtime. Yet, one of my teammates still went for runs every morning, worked out every evening and ate the healthiest foods he could find.

He had both the desire and the discipline.

But, even if you took desire off the table, the discipline would still carry forward.

Discipline is hard to build, but it’s all you need.

The buildings for community gatherings are closed.

The places of worship where people seek both community and nourishment are not available. Even a throwback to the early gatherings of communities in people’s homes are not an option.

With all these shutdown, people are seeking and adapting.

The typical physical journeys we’ve taken in our quest for seeking answers are transforming and exposing them for what they are:

A journey within.

Our world has done a tremendous job of distracting and numbing us from ourselves. We’ve done a remarkable job of learning to ignore the cries of our soul.

Now that we’re forced to stay put, everything we’ve buried is coming to the surface and we must confront it.

This is leading to discoveries of joy, heartbreak, difficulties and breakthroughs. It’s allowing us to find sacred places not confined to physical locations and recognizing the truth of our own freedom:

The only place we can find solace is within.