Saving Time - Book Summary

Unlock the secrets of time: Redefine it to enrich your life

Imagine standing at a crossroads in an ancient, mystical library. One path promises immediate tools for time management — a direct way to slot every moment of your day into a neat schedule. The other path is less traveled, winding through the history and philosophy of time itself. Which path do you choose? According to Jenny Odell in "Saving Time," it may be the road less traveled that holds the true key to unlocking more hours in your day.

In our journey through "Saving Time," we're not just going to learn how to manage time — we're going to fundamentally redefine it. The aim isn't to cram more tasks into each hour, but to transform our perception of time, allowing for a richer experience of life itself.

What if I told you time is more pliable than you've been led to believe? That it's not the rigid tick-tock of the clock we bow to, but something far more elastic, influenced by culture, technology, and our own minds? In this narrative, the goal is to capture not just tips and techniques but a new worldview that changes how you approach every second you're alive.

So sit back and prepare for an exploration that may just grant you the greatest gift of all: the sensation of having more time without the perpetual race against the clock. We're about to delve into the essence of time, discover its various perceptions across civilizations, and learn how you can emerge with a refreshed approach to each dawn and dusk.

Buckle up — this isn't your average efficiency manual. It's a deep dive into time's ethereal waters, hoping to emerge not with more ticks, but more meaningful tocks.

Tracing the origins of timekeeping and its global impact

Long before the clock claimed its throne as the emblem of modern time, our ancestors experienced a world where tracking time was as natural as following the sun's arc across the sky. Ancient tools like sundials and water clocks, or clepsydras, whispered the day's passage without the need to chop it into exact segments. The imposition of mathematical precision upon time didn't take hold until well into human history.

Let's rewind to the sixth century, where we uncover a significant shift in time's narrative. Within the monastic walls, Christian monks adhered to canonical hours — setting aside eight specific moments for daily prayers. This rhythm carved the first semblance of a structured timetable, but it wasn't until the twelfth century that these efforts crystallized into a more practiced art form, and bells echoed through Cistercian cloisters to mark the division of the day.

Within these hallowed halls, the seeds of our modern timekeeping were sown, soon germinating into publicly displayed mechanical turret clocks. As European societies burgeoned into bustling hubs of trade and governance, these clocks graduated from coordination tools to arbiters of commerce — much like a conductor's baton signaling the close of an industrious symphony.

However, the tale of time is twined with darker threads, woven into the fabric of colonialism and the thirst for control. In the eighteenth century, Britain, eager to assert its burgeoning empire, contributed another chapter with the advent of the marine chronometer, bolstering its naval prowess and prompting a new era of global dominion.

The plot thickens as we enter the 1850s, where, in Greenwich, England, oracles of time — master clocks — began pulsing GMT across the realm, synchronizing far-flung train schedules with electric precision.

Across the Atlantic, the American and Canadian railroads faced the chaos of conflicting timetables. It took the vision of Sandford Fleming, a railway engineer, to propose a celestial clock — the Cosmic Day — partitioning the world into 24 time zones mirroring the day's full turn.

His ingenuity came into its own when the world's nations gathered in 1884 for the International Meridian Conference. There, time zones as we know them were born, with Greenwich enshrined as the beating heart, the prime meridian — a temporal Adam, if you will — from which all other moments would take their cue.

And so, the journey of time continued, from nature's rhythms to the chimes of power. In this exploration, we've unearthed the roots of our clock-watching habits and seen how they shape the way we orchestrate our lives today.

The value of time: Balancing productivity and humanity

In a scientific echo of a philosophical conundrum, the year 1998 saw a clash between the cerebral sanctum of the Italian National Institute for Nuclear Physics and the rigid structure of bureaucratic timekeeping. When researchers were required to punch in and out like factory workers, an uproar ensued, triggering a worldwide debate. The crux of the matter hinged on a simple but profound query: What does it mean when we say our time is "on sale"?

Cinema, with its poignant vignettes, has often grappled with the intricacy of this relationship between time and value. Echoes of these themes resonate through Charlie Chaplin's "Modern Times," where The Tramp, with comedic genius, rushes to keep pace with an unforgiving conveyor belt, a slave to the ticking away of the industrial clock.

Chaplin's sardonic portrayal of "The Billows Feeding Machine," a contraption designed to churn nutrition into workers without pausing the wheels of production, spins into a farcical nightmare. This absurd dance of corn on the cob and human face spotlights the relentless drive to wring every drop of labor from employees, all in service of "saving time."

Fast forward to the unforeseen landscapes of the coronavirus pandemic some eighty years later, and working from home transformed many into unwitting subjects beneath the digital supervisor's gaze. Sophisticated surveillance tech, capturing every keystroke and screen flicker, raised alarms. An employee recounts the invasive scrutiny in a Vox article, narrating a workday stripped of privacy, autonomy, and even the brief respite of a stretch.

Here, Allen C. Bluedorn's concept of "fungible time" — echoing Benjamin Franklin's adage, "Time is money" — crystallizes into modern practice. Time becomes a commodity, where moments are the currency exchanged for output, and every minute is branded with an equivalent price tag.

But this begs important questions — who arbitrates the cost of an hour? Is time's marketplace fair, or are some left shortchanged by the clock? The implications of placing a dollar figure on something as intangible as time ripple through our lives, questioning the balance between achieving productivity and preserving our humanity.

The myth of time equality in a hustle-driven world

In the hustle and bustle of the 21st century, the clarion call to optimize every second, to idolize efficiency, and to glorify busyness has become a cultural siren song, particularly pronounced in the United States. Under the relentless drumbeat of hustle culture, success is often synonymous with ceaseless toil and the unyielding pursuit of peak productivity.

Enter the so-called "productivity bros," these virtual town criers of the digital age who champion strict time management and rigorous self-discipline as the panacea for life's myriad challenges. Their mantra? We're all on a level playing field with our twenty-four-hour allotments.

However, cast a discerning eye over this notion, and you'll find it lacks the threads to hold together. For those tethered to caregiving duties, battling health complications, or shouldering a disproportionate burden of domestic chores, the idea of time as an evenly distributed resource feels less like tenable wisdom and more like a hollow jest.

One philosopher, Robert E. Goodin, deconstructs this egalitarian notion of time, exposing its unforgiving nature as a "cruel joke." This flawed premise, nonetheless, thrives among proponents of "bootstrap" lore — a mindset that underplays systemic barriers in favor of a romanticized work-hard-and-prosper narrative.

Peeling back layers of societal norms reveals uncomfortable truths: power bestows some with mastery over not just their time but the hours of others, and the value of an individual's time often hinges on factors beyond one's reach, be it age, gender, or class.

The essence of time management, then, is an echo of a larger conundrum — who truly holds the reins of our temporal existence?

Jenny Odell shifts the lens, proposing that individual experiences of time are less a function of measurement and more a reflection of the prevailing power dynamics — the so-called "economy of temporal worth." Author Sarah Sharma resonates with this view, emphasizing the stark contrast between the current time management culture and the underlying, uneven political realities.

To navigate this dissonance and carve a path toward equitable time stewardship, Odell suggests starting with an introspective step: recognizing how experiences of time diverge across the social strata. Such awareness could foster more equitable interpretations of "time management," ultimately recalibrating the concept to serve diverse needs in a society sensitive to temporal disparities.

Navigating the temporal flux: Pandemic reflections and climate urgency

The onset of the COVID-19 pandemic plunged the globe into a temporal twilight zone, where the seemingly concrete notions of time dissolved into a muddled haze. Society took to the digital realm to voice its collective disorientation, flooding timelines with tales of days indistinguishable from nights, where weeks melded into a singular, amorphous blob.

It was during this disarray that Jenny Odell linked our contemporary struggle with time to the century-old musings of French philosopher Henri Bergson from "Creative Evolution." In his vision, Bergson challenges us to abandon our linear dissection of time, urging us to embrace it as a flowing successional continuum rather than a quantifiable entity segmented into discrete moments laid out in physical space.

To grasp Bergson's vision, we might look to a river of lava, continuously morphing—with the leading edge representing the relentless forward march of now, while the cooling path behind it carries the echoes of where it has been, each layer a testament to its multifaceted journey.

This pandemic-induced acute awareness of the passage of time has intersected with another pressing concern—the climate crisis. The prolonged pause in our routines granted more of us the opportunity to perceive the quickening tick of the environmental doomsday clock, amplifying existential anxieties.

Yet within this daunting backdrop, Odell proposes a dual approach to alleviate the mental toll. Firstly, by recognizing our collective stake in the looming future—the prospect that belongs to us all—might we find solace in the solidarity of shared concern, rather than sinking into solitary despair.

Secondly, Odell draws inspiration from the words of Native American writer Elissa Washuta, suggesting that an "apocalyptic" perspective need not signal defeat. Indigenous peoples, frequently described as "post-apocalyptic," have weathered countless societal collapses and continue to forge paths towards recovery and resurgence.

So perhaps, as Odell implies, the key lies in sidestepping the worn paths of the past and learning from those for whom "endings" are not the cessation but merely inflection points leading to rebirth and renaissance. Embracing this mindset may be our best strategy for steeling ourselves against the challenges that lie ahead, rather than merely deferring the pressing decisions and actions that beckon us now.

Embracing the present: The golden thread of living, not just existing

Drawn from the pages of her mother's vintage fairytale book, Odell recounts a story where a boy, bestowed with a magical golden thread by a witch, can fast-forward through life's milestones at will. But as the boy tugs on the thread, he bypasses the substance of his existence, only to realize too late that he has skipped the essence of living itself. This tale becomes a parable for our quest: How can we craft more time to live, not just exist?

The pursuit of time management, often evangelized by the cult of productivity, presents itself as a tempting elixir. Yet, paradoxically, it might be exacerbating our temporal hunger. Oliver Burkeman, in his exploration of time's dilemma, reveals a cruel irony: our sustained focus on time's passage only magnifies our perception of its scarcity, turning seconds into sand sliding through our fingers.

The burgeoning wellness industry preys on this collective chrono-phobia, teasing immortality behind a smokescreen of supplements and regimens. Here lies an insidious message — the secret to longevity is yours, if only you'd work for it, pay for it. However, this narrative collapses under the weight of its inattention to the barriers of genetics, health, and wealth disparities.

Odell posits an alternative approach, stepping away from the quest to manufacture more time towards a richer immersion in the current moment. After all, chasing after time can be as fruitless as grasping at the wind—life is measured not by the length of days but by the depth of experiences.

The ancient Greeks held two concepts of time: chronos, the sequential ticking towards tomorrow, and kairos — the opportune, defining instant. It may be instinctive to cling to the predictability of chronos, but it's within the tumult of kairos that life unfurls, urging us to seize the now, where "crisis" transforms into potential and novelty.

In a breakneck world, where futures are fogged and paths untold, Odell gently guides us towards embracing kairos. It is within these junctures that possibility blossoms, permitting us to craft new futures rather than merely tread the worn grooves of past hours.

Let go of the reins over the uncontrollable march of time, suggests Odell, and you'll discover the power to not only inhabit the present but to shape it. It's here, in the living, breathing present, where life's true cadence beats —not in the desperate attempts to elongate it, but in the capacity to inhabit each fleeting beat with presence and purpose.

Embrace the moments: Rethinking time in a fast-paced era

In the relentless dance of modernity, there's a constant pressure to outpace the clock, to cram more into every day, to stretch our time until it snaps. The hunger for productivity feeds a poignant anxiety about the present and a deep-seated fear of an uncertain future. And yet, hidden within this frenetic rhythm is a gentle whisper of hope.

To achieve a world where every tick and tock weighs the same for everyone, we need profound systemic reforms that ensure time is a shared resource, unhindered by the divides of wealth, race, or gender.

On the tapestry of community, it is crucial to recognize that our individual timelines intertwine. Our concerns and aspirations, particularly in light of a shared future, are threads that bind us together as we collectively navigate the ceaseless progression of time.

Then there's the personal canvas. Here, each of us has the potential to redefine our relationship with time. If we can let go of the constraints of quantified time — the endless counting and compartmentalizing — and embrace each moment for its intrinsic worth, we can break free from the compulsion to control the uncontrollable.

In this reframed existence, the focus shifts from longevity and accumulation to a deeper immersion in the now — feeling the pulse of life in every breath. Our journey through time should not be a race towards more, but a richer experience of what is. To truly live is to relish the unfolding seconds with intention and presence, to live fully and presently within the gifts granted by each heartbeat.

Final summary: In the end, the secret to "saving time" isn't in doing more or living longer; it's about cultivating a profound awareness of life as it is, embracing the present, and thriving within the ebb and flow of our collective human experience.