Home » Archive » Not enough time is all about trust

, written by Jeremy. Read the commentary.

Time. The regular theme is that we haven’t got enough. No time to chat, no time for the rest of my coffee, not enough time to play, not enough time to listen, no time to read it again, haven’t got time to go there myself. No time.

Where did time come from? Didn’t the Romans make it? In a world where everything else is changing, fragmenting, becoming more modular — what about time?

In an Industrial world, time mattered. Mostly because you wanted everyone there at the same time. We needed to be together on the line, in the factory, in the field. I couldn’t work without you. You needed to hold that side while I held this one. Not anymore.

That’s why we can outsource in tidal waves. We can give nearly everything away because I don’t need to be there while you get your stuff done. When you’re done, I can start. I can even work while you work because we have real-time synching. Real time?

Isn’t real time … modular time? Your piece of time plus my piece of time, together they land at the same place in time when someone else is making a decision. Isn’t that real time? Isn’t that modular time?

So doesn’t real time (meaning modular time) mean that work time … isn’t? Isn’t it fake … a bit contrived, to have an nine hour time slot carved into my day where I sit like a line worker at my desk?

And isn’t time management more about stress management where my stress is driven higher while sitting at my desk in fake time trying to be interested in something that the rest of me can’t possibly care about right then?

Because while there’s real time, there’s also natural time. Like sessions, like migrating birds, like erosion … there are cycles in everything. Including me. Like lightning, there are moments when I can change the world, literally. It’s my time. There are times when I can carry bricks from one end of the yard to the other … forever … or at least until it’s done. And there are times when I couldn’t lift a finger or move a fly. It’s not my time.

So it’s not really about time at all. At least, not in the sense that we regularly mean when talking about it. It’s about something else.

At the dirty end of the stick, it’s about trust.

I trust that you will get this done. That in real time, I will have what I need when I need it. And if it takes lightning or carrying bricks, either way, it’ll be there when I need it. And I trust that while you loll there, gazing at that pesky fly, something is happening in natural time that will eventually lead to you getting back up again.

I trust you to give me your brilliance (because that’s what I paid for). And I won’t ask for anything less.

I won’t ask for less by asking where you were at 2:00. I won’t ask for less by asking for an update every three days even though the real time deadline isn’t for another fifteen. I won’t ask for less by describing how you’ve spent to much time on inconsequential things.

Because when I trust you, I free you. I unload you’re brilliance. I call out from you everything I hired you to do. I ask for you … as a person.

Time is a tool. Like a cattle prod’s a tool. It isn’t an invitation. And it’s an invitation that’s needed.

It’s a standing invitation to be human that will bridge the gulf between all the time management courses you can handle and a brilliance few of us can imagine. Not because time’s the bane of all that’s worth having … but because lack of trust is.

Lack of trust is the gate keeper of myriad insidious things like gossip, doubt, envy, jealousy, insecurity, indecisiveness, and frustration. Lack of time’s just a symptom.

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