Benjamin Franklin once famously said, “Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.” It’s not surprising, given such a philosophy, that Franklin accomplished an amazing amount during his lifetime. Inventor. Statesman. Author. Public Servant. Founding Father.
But as much as Franklin is revered here in Philadelphia where I live—the city Franklin also called home—and as grateful as I am for all of his contributions to our city and society, I’ve come to question his premise that time is the stuff life is made of. More and more I see that life is made of a kind of attention that takes us into a dimension where time doesn’t even exist.
The other morning I was sitting on my roof deck. It was a gorgeous, sunny morning here in Philadelphia, and I was diligently doing my morning journaling, part of my morning routine. But then a couple of goldfinches arrived and sat on a rope suspended above the bird feeder, and began to sing.
I fell into an amazed stupor. How can yellow be that bright?!? How can such a tiny creature bring forth so much sound?!?
I realized that nothing I could journal about would be nearly as revelatory as these two tiny luminous singing creatures—Avatars of Awareness.
So I put down my pen and allowed my clever mind to go quiet—the mind that loves to entertain itself with fancy language, intricate plans, dramatic stories, ingenious concepts.
I allowed the conceptual, linguistic mind to go offline. I rested in the state of pure BeHolding. Not trying to name anything. Or analyze anything. Or hold onto anything. Not trying to make the moment mean anything.
I just let my unmediated awareness be fully present to what was before me, and without any effort of my own I found myself in that timeless dimension where only awe and gratitude exist.
And you know what? At the end of the day when I sat down to make my list of things I was most grateful for that day, the thing that outshone everything else was that moment I “squandered” BeHolding those two little creatures.
I suppose I could race through the rest of my life spending each and every moment devoted to accomplishing something “useful,” and yes, perhaps at the end of my days I might have a sense of deep satisfaction at a life well spent.
But I expect that satisfaction might be eclipsed by a sense of regret that I hadn’t “squandered” more of my precious moments to be fully present and attentive to the miracle and amazement of existence itself.
At this point in my life I understand that I don’t squander time when I go idle. I squander time when my life is so filled with relentless activity that I remain completely oblivious to the sheer wonder of Being that is always before me.
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Beautifully said- ‘I squander time when my life is so filled with relentless activity that I remain completely oblivious to the sheer wonder of Being that is always before me.. I agree, it is time (or untime) to stop and smell the roses, listen to the birdsongs, enjoy the moment in all its sensual richness and glory. Thanks for that reminder….I will endeavor to do more of he same. I so enjoy your writings and podcasts, keep up the good work!
Thanks. I needed this today. I have an unhealthy obsession with “not enough time.” It filters everything in my life. I will start *squandering* a little of it…
I read this while hearing the background noise of the tv in the waiting room at my car dealer and even in such a fluorescent lit space, felt myself relax and become more happily present. Thank you!
Before I learned to pray (which requires active presence in everywhere/everywhen) I used to fall into what I called “glob” time. I relaxed and went nowhere/no time. I did nothing, required nothing and was nothing. I came back from that refreshed and ready to be present again. How does this compare with your squandering experience?
Thank you Patricia. The way you frame things is so to the point and inspiring. The other day I was talking to someone in my back yard and two birds came zipping through. I was so grabbed by their beauty that when they were out of sight and I returned to the conversation and had no idea what I was saying; I was taken back by the beauty of birds that it was like they flew through my mind and cleaned out some cobwebs.