More Than Time

I thought about calling this post “Low Voltage Living” but in the end decided against it. It would have been a downer. After all, who wants to lead a low voltage life? But if I were to answer honestly–not something I normally do, being the kind of writer who pads his answers the way a bird feathers a nest–I’d have to say yes, I do. I want a low voltage life (see Living the Vita Quieta).

This has something to do with my being as slow as molasses (see Molasses). I move slowly, act slowly, and–some might say–think slowly. I’ll take the hit. I don’t care. Actually, one of the few things I am fast at is blocking, parrying, or slipping jabs, crosses, and hooks, although it only takes one of those getting through to ruin what would otherwise have been a perfectly lovely day.

On one level, living low voltage means not getting worked up over things, events, and people out of our control, but it’s more than that. It’s about having that same approach over things we can control so that we maintain an inner equilibrium, a harmony of the soul. And there’s something that regulates all of this–the flow–but it may not be what you’d expect.

We are now in the realm of a recurring theme on this site: the relationship among fundamental forces of nature. See, I had a eureka moment this week in which I recognized something incredibly powerful yet as obvious as the nose on my face. If you are unaware, that’s pretty obvious (NB: if you like the satiric Tristram Shandy, see “On Noses” for the importance of noses in life and love).

What’s he going on about now? you ask. Unlike my nose, let me get straight to the point. You know how conventional wisdom touts time (T) as the most important value in life, because once it’s gone it never comes back? You often hear people talk about it in terms of currency or Heraclitus’ stream. Well, what I have come to realize is that as important as (T) is, there is something even more so. That something is energy ($E$).

Time (T) is important and functions in relation to energy (E), but my available energy (E) is what determines whether or not I say yes to things that cross my path. As an example, I am currently on the twenty-second floor of a hotel in Seattle, looking over a gray and cloudy Puget Sound, deciding whether or not to go on a group stroll down to Pike Place Market, famous for the original Starbuck’s store, among other things.

Now, I have been to the market before and tend to shy away from crowds and tourists. I don’t need to see fishmongers throwing salmon at each other. But several factors are involved here. To wit, it is a Saturday morning and I have free time (T), walking energizes me even in a Seattle drizzle (E), and I am desperate for a caffè latte (more E). So, I have decided to go with the group of boxers and coaches headed there. We are all in town for a tournament.

You may think this is the most obvious thing in the world–again, like Tristram’s noses–but to me it has landed with the force of Marines in an assault craft. No longer am I racing against the clock, comparing myself to others, or regretting a life that followed a crooked path rather than a straight one. Not being constrained by time (T) upends my decision-making so that I can evaluate things, events, and people based on whether they add energy or subtract it. If they drain my energy (E), then how much? It’s not so much a question of do I have time (T) for a walk to the market, but do I have the energy (E) for a walk to the market to watch them lob fish?

This is a qualitative change designed to preserve energy (E) by slowing its flow. Time (T) no longer dictates what I do or with whom I do it. Life takes on a richer, nonlinear dimension when moving in waves of energy (E) rather than points of time (T). I thought of explaining this to the random guy in the elevator who smiled when he overheard my answer to the question, “What are you going to do now that we’re back from the market?” “Take a nap,” I replied to the coach who had asked it. “What else?” The guy smiled, but I decided not to explain anything.

I had the T but not the E. I knew he’d understand.

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