Crazy Busy

When I was in college I spent every minute of every day (and practically every night) in motion. Even when I was afforded a precious moment of downtime, I kept a running to do list in the back of my mind. Afterall, I couldn't face being behind when I took my last deep breathe and valiantly went back to work. I had a giant whiteboard on my bedroom wall that was constantly cluttered with calendar dates, reminders, supplies, phone numbers and if I was lucky, an occassional inside joke or encouraging note from one of my roommates. My cell phone bill was over $200 every month. It was blissful insanity. I was a full time student slash fuller time Director of an on-campus organization, a job that was as rewarding as it was consuming. My friends were the people I worked with and my social life was framed by organizational obligations.

These days, My whiteboard is a facilitation tool for the student support groups I run as part of my full time job. I don't use a planner and aside from a few notes here and there in my outlook calendar, my life is rarely dictated by a regimented schedule of events. I am not the director of anything and I have so little intellectual/academic stimulation in my life that I swear both my vocabulary and wealth of knowledge about the world are diminishing. Yet somehow, over the last couple of years, when asked how I'm doing or what I've been up to, I have unequivocally answered, "busy." And apparently, I'm not the only one.

The current moment of American insanity has been immortalized in a new book about being "Crazy Busy" (the book's straightforward title, apparently a consequence of the author being too over-stretched to be clever or creative in the production process). When I first heard about the book I (wrongly) assumed it was a critique of the overly-scheduled cultural birthplace of the 14 hour work day, the one day weekend and (my personal favorite) the 15 minute lunch break. I imagined the hilarious analysis of how only the United States could produce record-level job loss coinciding with a sharp increase in the sale of cell phones and other electronics designed to suit the needs of a busy working professional (blackberry revolution anyone?). I couldn't wait to breathe deeply through pages and pages of subversive, anti-capitalist (dare I say anti-American) chapters detailing the tragic implications of the current (double and triple-booked) status quo. Unfortunately, I'd have to wait for the next great work of American non-fiction, because, like most things in our lives these days that bring rest and relaxation, "Crazy Busy" is neither the time nor the place.

As it turns out (and by that, I mean, what I can gather from the editor's reviews on Amazon.com-it's not like I have the time to actually read it), the book is a how-to guide of sorts; a survival manual for the current era of chaos and confusion in our personal, professional, social and emotional lives. A few things crossed my mind immediately-

1) Am I wrong to assume that anyone caught up in a blackberry managed existence of meeting times and appointment reminders is already as equipped as they ever will be to handle the insanity of their daily lifestyle?
2) In a culture where we keep in touch with our families via facebook and keep abreast on the global economic crisis via text messages from cnn.com, is anyone actually reading entire books anymore?

After my initial perplexity subsided, I got to thinking about being busy. I thought about all of the different things I don't do, the people I don't call and the promises I don't keep, all in the name of how "busy" I am all of the time. I postpone coffee dates, create distance in my relationships, neglect my family and never have an inkling of guilt about it. Afterall, if I had just a couple more hours in a day, days in a weekend, or months in the year, I would call/write to/care about everyone, right?

Probably not. Because the truth is, the "I'm too busy" excuse is just this era's (polite) vaersion of "sorry, you're not a priority." The fact that we invoke it so often is at the core of my two pronged analysis, sparked by the new book, my own life and my desire to take a step back, a deep breathe and remind myself just how much time I really have.

Part 1: Just face it, you're not THAT busy

It's true. Our lives are demanding. The culture of capitalism, materialism and personal greed have attached all sorts of outrageous expectations to both our private and professional existence. Lately I've been wondering however, just how many of us are actually suffering from a complete absence of leisure time, and how many of us are participating in the illusion of it. If the entire country is caught up in the frenzy of their own schedules, who are the multiple millions of people voting for American Idol contestants? and who are the people patronizing the superbowl to such an extent that it costs the life savings of an entire franchise to advertise for thirty seconds during the event? How is it possible that I have over 400 "friends" on facebook, many who update their "status," pictures, and blogs regularly? Somehow, people found six hours in the middle of the work week to stand in line for the release of the new iphone last summer, likely so they could promptly dowload a fancy application the value of which is measured by minutes of time you can waste using it. You get the point.

Ever aware of the socio-cultural intersections that define our identity and experiences, I concede to the fact that the above description does not encompass the entire population. Everything from my advocacy of "second shift" feminist theory, to my personal upbringing by a physician father who spent more hours a week at work than most people spend eating, sleeping and working combined, has made me personally aware of the many circumstances that frame an unmanageable life. My suspicion remains, however, that many of us are enchanted by the idea of busy-ness, determined to define our lives by what we have going on rather than who we are or what we bring to the world.

Part 2: So we're busy... so what?

It makes sense, that it happened this way-that we became a culture of people who define our life's worth by the number of appointments in our cell phone and the number of emails in our inbox. It makes sense because it's easy, empty and (most importantly), profitable.

easy: Being "busy" is a catch-all excuse for everything,, and we, as a culture, love that about it. We're too busy to eat healthy, exercise, vote, invest in our families, volunteer, read, write, contribute, etc- it's a convenient way to get out of everything that requires real time and energy. The best part is, there are so many distractions in our lives: cell phones, i phones, social networking, TV on DVD and DVR-that we can support our habit of claiming that we're "busy" by drowning ourselves in time-consuming (meaningless) activities.

Empty: As far as I'm concerned, there's no absolute or intrinsic value to being busy. And as far as I know, there's no scientific (or even spiritual) evidence that being busy does anything for your life other than create clutter, stress and a meaningless illusion of meaning.


Profitable: Both the idea that we're busy and the participation in busy-ness keeps capitalism in motion. Nothing sells better than a fast/easy/lightweight solution to all of our problems, and being overbooked, overstretched and generally over stimulated brings up a slough of situations that demand our investment in products of all kinds. We consume food in convenient packaging and get meals from the driver-side window of our cars. Advertisers sell us "time-saving", "efficient" and "fast-working" everything, while we continue to move so quickly through our lives that we unconciously spend money on mindless consumption. And despite all of the time we're saving not talking, cooking, exercising, etc, we still manage to tell the world that we don't have time for anyone, especially ourselves.

I am only as critical of others as I can be critical of myself. And for so long, I too have bought into the myth that a path of chaos is the only route to a fulfilling life. About a month ago, while sweating profusely on my yoga mat, I awakened just briefly enough to ask myself: exactly what am I so busy doing? That question quickly led to a deeper exploration of why I was moving so quickly through my own life. Where was it that I was trying to get to in such a hurry? The answers to all of these questions have given me peace in stillness and the space to slow down.

Moving at a more moderate pace, I have come to appreciate a life that is not determined by how exhausted I am at the end of every day. It is with this clarity that I wonder just how much we're missing out on as we move through each minute relentlessly determined to get to the next minute, the next task, the next day, week, year, etc. as quickly as we possibly can. I have a yoga teacher who always says: "I never understand why people want to get through everything in life so fast. Afterall, no one gets out alive." She's right of course, packing more "things" or "events" or "appointments" in between the starting line and finish line of life isn't going to change the outcome in the end. In fact, it might just prevent us all from enjoying, appreciating and savoring all of the good stuff in between.