Time After Time

To delve into the concept of time would first of all take me forever to write and secondly, have a ninety-seven per cent chance of physically blowing my head off.

So for now I’m sticking to two aspects of time that define my relationship with it – tardiness and my body clock – and some intellectual stimulation in the form Ayurveda.

The goal?

To turn myself from a here-there-and-everywhere kind of girl into a time management PRO.

I’M LATE, I’M LATE, FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE

In my last job one of my many unfortunate nicknames was “The 8.45am Whirlwind”. It doesn’t quite roll of the tongue but it’s probably one of the most apt I’ve ever had.

I would never arrive quietly, calmly or in any form of orderly manner. I’d whirlwind my way over to my desk tripping over wires and chair legs, spilling coffee all over myself and talking at 100mph about to explode with excitement to tell a story.

And there was just something about our 8.30am start time that I couldn’t get my head around. I’d turn up super early or super late, but never on time, and I’d always be asking with a genuinely puzzled face “what time are we supposed to start again?”

Almost three years went by and I still averaged out at an 8.45am start.

It was actually there that my former Director and Hero, Kate, told me an interesting fact; this inability to see time by the ticks of a clock shows optimism (you think you have more time than you actually do), a laid back attitude and a talent for thinking on your feet.

Google is saturated in articles that confirm it’s true – apparently official scientific studies have found that tardiness is a sign you’re creative, optimistic, successful and an all round a deadboss person.

And who am I to argue with science.

IT’S A QUARTER PAST FRECKLE

Next up is the body clock.

When I was little I always used to draw a watch around my left wrist that had a freckle right in the centre where the big hand met the little hand and I called it my body clock.

As I got older, I realised what a body clock actually was and how bafflingly bizarre it really is. While intellectually I’m somehow unable to associate myself with the ticking hands of a clock, physiologically we are one.

I can say to myself “I want to wake up at 5.50am tomorrow”, and I do.

On.the.dot.

Every time, without fail.

Maybe it’s to do with the sun. Maybe I’ve just buried my connection with time so deep, that it’s sunk into my subconscious. Or maybe I’m an alien.

I don’t have the answer right now, nor do I have time scheduled in for a Googletabathon, so I’ll just have to add these thoughts to my never-ending list of introspective investigations and accept my body clock as a miracle I can’t yet understand.

MANAGING TIME LIKE A PRO

So how does somebody who is completely incapable of connecting with time on a conscious level, yet somehow paradoxically glued to it subconsciously, learn how to master the art of time management?

With ten zillion side hustles on the go and a paradise island to explore, I had no choice but to find out.

I started listening to my body.

Ayuveda, an ancient Eastern life science which I’m learning more and more about these days, splits our day into four six-hour parts that differ in energy levels, creativity and brain power.

I’m not totally in sync with what it says, but I am understanding more and more how physically, mentally and emotionally operate around the clock.

I come alive in the morning. Psychotically alive. Every day feels like Christmas and I love my morning routine more than life itself. At five or six and my eyes are open, my body is awake and my brain is sharp.

Depending on what I eat and how much, I might have a minor post-lunch slump, but by the afternoon I’m back on it – back in the productive and creative zone, typing at the speed of light.

As the sun starts to set, I’ve worn myself out and I’m ready for some mental and physical down time. This is an ideal time for me to do a bit of sunset yoga, read and binge on documentaries.

When I started to understand how it all works, I put together a plan to match it.

I have a schedule and I’m sticking to it. I have alarms that go off every hour to keep me on track. I’m chunking the day up into tasks and I’m being more productive than I ever have in my entire life.

But productivity and output aren’t the main benefits I’m reaping – presence is.

I’m giving everything I do such an intense focus without distraction that I”m truly in the present moment. Meditation and sleep are part of the schedule, as are socials and the quality of all three are going up.

So listen to your body, make a plan and be present.

Time isn’t precious at all, because it is an illusion. What you perceive as precious is not time but the one point that is out of time: the Now. That is precious indeed