This clock doesn’t tell the time…
…Can it tell me how to spend it?
Like so many of us, I ended up with a lot more time on my hands over Christmas 2020 than expected, as a result of the lockdown. It was a rare pause, as if the clock had (almost) stopped racing forward.
One way I passed some time was to take stock after such a bizarre year. I wanted to look back, and look ahead — and by doing so feel clearer about where I actually ‘was’ in the present moment. It ended up a reflection on time itself, and my use of it, and I sat by an open fire and made this little clock. Cutting, sticking and processing.
The clock has four layers, and a hand for each. The idea is that the inner layer is a daily rotation, so the symbols represent things that I’d like to spend time doing on a daily basis. If the clock were real the second hand would take a week to complete its rotation. The third hand would take a month, and the fourth hand would take a full year. The symbols in each layer represent things that feel particularly important to do within that particular time frame.
To work out what the symbols should be I spent some time reflecting on particularly memorable moments from my life — moments of particular quality — which could teach me something about when I’ve spent my time in the most optimal/beautiful way. I wrote about these moments, then stared into the fire (!) and thought about why these moments stood out and how this understanding could guide the way I spend time in the year to come.
I’ve written about some of these moments below, and I’ve decoded my symbols as well. What would some of your precious moments of quality be? What symbols would feel important for you in 2021?
Exploring the idea of time itself is something I’m planning to do more of this year, as part of Edi’s Unravelling Time Learning Marathon which I’d like to join. I’m really interested in exploring time as a currency that has so much more intrinsic value than money. And I’m also very curious about long-term thinking and how we can cultivate our ability do it. It seems like such a clear need for the challenges we face, and yet in many ways against the very grain of who we are as human animals. Anyway, I digress.
Reading the clock
Four hands corresponding to four layers of the clock face:
- The innermost layer contains symbols representing things I want to spend time doing DAILY.
- The second layer contains symbols representing things that I want to do on a WEEKLY basis.
- The third layer contains symbols for the things I want to spend time on MONTHLY.
- The outer layer contains symbols representing things I want to happen ANNUALLY.
The clock is specific to 2021. The make up of symbols would look a bit different for another year:
Daily
👂 Listening
Everyday, aiming to listen more than I speak.
👐 Making
Doesn’t need to be anything fancy, it might just be a meal.
🐢 Slowing down
Intentionally leaving ‘empty’ time for going slow. Not my forte!
🫀 Tending to relationships
Relationships are like plants. Tending to at least one every day.
🏃♀️ Moving
Could be running, roller blading, dancing, or just a walk around the block. I want zero days where I move from bed, to a chair, to the sofa and to bed.
Weekly
🥁 Drumming
I got a Djembe for Christmas. My God, it’s HARD. And my neighbours are going to kill me :)
🗯️ Epic conversation
The kind where you meander all over the place and set the world to rights.
🔮 Building the future
Feeling that my work is (at least) contributing to a future I can bring children into.
💃 Raucousness
Laughter, being loud, shouting. Silly and manic energy.
🌱 Hands in the earth
This one is on hold until spring, but I seem to be becoming slowly and gradually more green fingered, as I become My Mother.
Monthly
😱 Facing a fear
Learning to rollerblade is a great example, because I felt genuinely terrified to begin with. But I feel like I’m training my courage (which I believe I’ll need).
👨👩👧👦 Gathering in bigger groups
Obviously not allowed right now. Hopefully someday soon.
🌈 Magic
Something inexplicable and out of the ordinary. By its very definition I can’t really describe it here.
🎁 Giving away
I want to spend a bit more time this year making things for others and creating gifts.
🧠 Reflecting on experience
I preach the value of this more than I actually make space for it for myself.
Annually
🕌 Ramadan
It’s coming around again in April, the most important annual ritual I have.
🐻 Hibernating
For the last few years I’ve had 3 weeks off over Christmas which means I can really switch off. Running a business makes that very hard. Having a longer stretch of holiday at least once a year feels essential.
🌎 New lands
This doesn’t even need to be lands beyond the UK. But the ritual of exploring unknown places felt very missing in 2020.
🧜♀️ Swimming in the sea
I didn’t do this last year, not once.
🎪 Big party
I hope and pray that this might be possible at least once this year.
Memorable moments of ‘particular quality’ that helped me come up with these symbols
These are just a few of my most memorable moments. It was interesting to reflect on these memories, think about what they have in common, and what marks them out from other, less memorable events. These memories tell me a lot about what I value, and therefore a lot about how I might spend my time to encourage more moments such as these. This felt like a more heartfelt and less intellectual process than other end-of-year reflections and goal setting processes I’ve tried.
A conversation with Adam
10 years after I had my all clear for cancer, I was on holiday with my brother. We were staying in some hostels in the North East, we went to Robin Hood’s Bay, Scarborough, and Whitby. We sat on a bench somewhere whilst out walking. We were talking and I remember him asking me whether I would take back my experience of cancer if I could. I said no (and meant it), because trite though it sounds, I really couldn’t imagine ‘being me’ without having been through that experience. I remember realising that I was only able to say that having had 10 years distance. It took me 5 years to stop being angry. And another 5 to accept the experience.
Sitting there, with someone I love so much, I realised how much healing had taken place, and how far we’d come together. That moment will stay with me forever.
Glen Miller Café in Stockholm
When I left uni I went to live in Sweden. I lived in Stockholm for a year. The whole experience had real quality, but I can pick out the many (many) times I went to the Glen Miller Café. It’s a little jazz bar. And when I say little, I mean tiny, just a little room with enough space for one band, about 20 people eating at small tables, a little hole in the wall for the bar. It had an extremely candlelit vibe. It only served mussels, but four or five different flavours (curry, saffron…), and there was always the same set up for every evening — starter, then a jazz set, main, then another set, desert, then another set. It was so great because dinner would last hours, you’d drink wine, and the snow would fall outside. I went there with new friends in Stockholm, and I took everyone there who visited me. It was pure atmosphere.
Amira Kheir playing live
Amira Kheir is a musician from Sudan. I saw her perform live at a festival one summer. She performed her song Ya Mara — which she explained is about strong women — and I was dancing with one of my oldest female friends, in the burning sunlight, and I thought about my Mum and the incredible, powerful way she’s always loved me, through all my painful phases of growing, through my time in hospital, and I was wearing a skirt which she’d given me that she’d worn when she was young, and I felt all this gratitude and love, it was a totally beautiful moment. I gave Mum an Amira Kheir CD after this, and when I listen to her music this moment is always conjured!
Cycling home after Kick Off
When Iacob and I began the first Learning Marathon, we were very anxious about having invited people to do it with us. The fact that people wanted to was amazing, but the process of finding those people had felt so vulnerable that we hadn’t thought much about how it would feel when we actually started the Learning Marathon together. We did our Kick Off weekend at Edspace, which at the time was a 20 minute cycle from my home. Seeing this idea come to life was overwhelming in many ways, and I remember cycling home that night on the Saturday, a sunny evening with a bit of breeze, passing people out walking on the streets, and I felt the hairs on the back of my arms standing up, just the pure magic of doing something that felt frightening but so worthwhile. There’s nothing like going through a fear and out the other side to make you feel alive.
Dhikr: “look after Johnnie”
Dhikr is melodic recitation of Quran, usually done collectively, that I often describe to British friends as chanting, because that’s what my childhood friend called it when she was playing at our house and my parents had people round for Dhikr. It’s a part of Islam that I really ‘clicked’ with when I was growing up and I remember curling up in Mum’s lap and being swayed to sleep by the rhythm and the repetitions.
A couple of years ago I was visiting my parents and we had gone together to a candlelit Dhikr circle near Glastonbury. I’d known and been with my partner Johnnie for a couple of years at this point, and I still found him so different to the person I’d imagined I might end up with, that I’d worry a lot about our relationship even though I felt happy so much of the time. During the Dhikr a conviction landed with me so clearly and strongly that I’ll never forget the moment. Depending on your persuasion, you might say that it was a thought that really resonated with me at the time, or, you might say it was a message I received. Who cares! Either way, it was a clear: ‘he is a gift for you, and you must take care of him, as he takes care of you’.
If you’d like to make your own clock, you can! I’m doing a workshop on March 17th 6–7.30pm where I’ll guide you through the process. Join us!
As ever I’d love to to hear from you if you’re exploring similar questions, or if you — like me — would like to spend time having ‘epic conversations’ this year. My inbox is open and I’d love to hear from you: zahra@enrolyourself.com
