03 Sep Timed Progress

As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.

Henry David Thoreau

Life has a way of showing us that some things and phenomena are more important than
others. One such way is pain. In spite of our impossible quest to suffer less than previous
generations so that we can go about our daily life uninterrupted, I would risk a statement that we
are indeed fortunate to feel pain at various junctures of life. Pain forces us to notice something
invaluable that is already in progress or about to happen. How often we realize that recurring pain is
the only thing that makes us see our doctor: we would be clueless and careless if we did not
experience it. The dearest groans of labor (Shakespeare) make the woman pay attention to the
pivotal moment of life. Beset by fierce labor contractions, a woman brings a new human being into
the world, changing the universe around her. She cannot shrug that moment off as inessential. She
cannot focus on other things or find a powerful enough distraction, as much she might wish for it.
The process hurts and encompasses all of woman’s cognitive and emotive universe. It demands her
entire attention.

Pain puts us on the alert, but life and God (who created life) have yet another way of making
us aware of important phenomena. We start to pay attention when something requires a
considerable amount of time to develop or form. It is common knowledge that it is more time-
consuming to build something than to have it destroyed. Let’s delve deeper, though: even when
one considers “building” or “becoming” on its own, not just in opposition to a potential destruction,
one will quickly realize that many important processes or stages of our lives take longer than we
would like them to. Somehow, it seems as if some things were meant to exasperate us and reveal
our limitations coupled with only-too-human impatience. So either we are slowed down against our
will and take baby steps instead of big leaps, or we realize we need to revisit certain things in order
to make desired progress in life. The lengthy process can turn into a welcome transformation by
burning out our superficial approach or excessive self-confidence.

One of my college friends once saw me as I was running across the college green on the way
to class. Patience was not my strength back then, I was in a hurry to get things done fast. My friend
was a slow-paced artist, so he scolded me, “Magdalena, will you ever notice the beauty of this tree
here if you run past it so fast?” I said, “Yes, I will simply have to run around it twice or thrice.” This
playful dialogue contained more grains of truth than I had thought.

One such time-consuming processes that all of us experience is puberty and the path to
reaching a passable kind of maturity. It takes people a long time before they are comfortable in their
adult bodies. The process takes so much time for a reason. It involves the brain (perception and
cognition), the body (growth and reproductive organs) and the realm of values and emotions. When
the great change is in progress, these components are not perfectly synchronized. I still remember
that terrible feeling of insecurity in high school; I had to go to the bathroom all the time to check on
my appearance. I recall my frequent infatuations and a myriad unsettling feelings as the connection
between love and desire started to emerge. These things take a decade or even more before they
settle and form a harmonious whole. And even as adults, we are still likely to experience insecurity
or fall into incoherence of some sort, caught in the heat of the battle between the heart and the
mind. There are so many other invisible factors and circumstances involved. Even decades later, we
sometimes revisit that painful and glorious process of coming of age to understand ourselves better.

Let’s put the uncontrollable dynamic of puberty aside and think about societal practices. It is
obvious that mankind has realized that the amount of time something takes matters. Many
institutions, such as universities, are built around the concept of long-term exposure to ideas,
contacts and people. Less exposure or shorter exposure would not yield the same result. In theory,
you could get a college degree within three months of non-stop instruction, provided you are a well-
rounded genius. Would it be worth anything, though? Even if it was possible to pump the same
amount of information into a student’s brain, most people would not support the idea of “instant
diploma”. It is because one needs time to process information accurately and to grow into a deeper
understanding of it. Absorption or memorization of certain facts and theories comes first. Later,
students are able to place whatever they know within a larger context. Afterwards, they develop an
understanding of different perspectives or interpretations, along with the benefits and tradeoffs.
Finally, as adults, they embrace their own unique viewpoint (or a vantage point) and commit to it.
This process cannot happen overnight. If it is truncated, it ends up incomplete and does not give one
enough room for a full college experience (friends, campus life, academic challenges) or enough time
to experience a handful of failures to come face to face with one’s shortcomings. Two months
cannot build a person’s character the same way that four years can.

In real life, a similar principle of timed exposure (and exasperation) holds true. We think we
know something and we are impatient to get a things done, armed with what we know for sure….
and then the process takes forever and requires that we modify several vital elements on the way,
mostly those that have to do with our inflated self-image of someone who has things under control.
It takes a lot of time for an individual to integrate their skills and values into the fabric of real life.
When families start to have children, they cannot predict all the challenges of child-rearing. The
process is much more complex and painful (but also infinitely more beautiful) than a bunch of ideas
on parenting that we held on to when our babies were only five days old. I’m not recommending
cynicism or an attitude of bitter derision towards our old selves, as imperfect as they were. I’m
talking about developing competence and humility, which inevitably place our original ideas in a
richer context without eradicating the beauty of our first dreams and plans. Simply put, it takes a lot
of time for an individual to integrate their skills and values into the fabric of real life.

Whatever we start doing seriously, it turns out to be surprisingly (and terribly) time-
consuming. But in the midst of that course contre la montre which is our life, a great mystery dwells
and gradually unfolds. The hard-earned experiences which allow us to develop a deeper
understanding of any single aspect of life pay off disproportionately, in eternity. The memory of
what we’ve said or done lives on: things that have taken time and effort are surprisingly lasting, even
permanent. They matter long after they’ve been completed, they echo long after we’ve passed
away, which is especially true for those of us who have children or an audience to talk to or write
for. What we leave as our legacy is there to stay, whether we want it or not. The impact of one’s
lifetime, regardless of its length, points to a great responsibility for who we strive to be and testifies
to the importance of each human life, full of trial and error, love, hardship and perseverance.

Many people who lived short lives left a lasting legacy. Quite a few of them were strangely
focused on their work, as if they had foreseen that the time was short and whatever they did would
leave a visible imprint on many generations to come. Imagine, the music to whose composition they
devoted three months (agonizing over the process, perhaps ) will be played for another two hundred
years or even longer. Interestingly, this awe-inspiring law of permanence applies not only those

whose talent was universally recognized, such as Dante or Beethoven, but also ordinary individuals
who devoted their lives to building lasting and meaningful relationships with those around them. I
would venture to say that this is one of the greatest differences between human and animal lives:
the rich and time-proof fabric of human lives is incomparably more meaningful than that of any
other creature. We have potential and we use it, wisely or not, and we pass down the consequences.
I bet that you still remember your deceased grandparents in great detail: you could recall their
words, their favorite sayings, their gestures, their accounts of wars they had to fight for things and
people that mattered to them. These memories come to mind very quickly. Moreover, you might
recognize some of their traits in yourself or you might even find yourself in the midst of similar time-
consuming life battles. Their contribution to the world is also still visible. The people whom they had
helped survive are still alive; the children they fathered or gave birth to are still around; their
drawings still decorate the wall; the patterned linen they gave you for your wedding is still in your
drawer; the flowers they had planted are now in bloom; the fence you had both put together,
investing both time and patience, still serves people.

So will our lengthy battles of today. Let’s wage them with patience and care.

(image: a clock from Dom Hipolitów (Kraków), photo credit: E. Litak)