I was just washing my hands, and as the water ran down my fingers, it occurred to me, what a miracle that water tap is. With one twist of a lever, a small river starts flowing in one’s bathroom. Clean, safe water, as much as one needs. It doesn’t make the floor wet, it doesn’t flood the house. It just stays there, in that little sink, ready to serve, ready to be used. A force that otherwise is able to sink ships, cause landslides and destroy whole cities when a dam bursts: we now have made it possible that even a child can control it with one hand.
We are surrounded by magic every day of our lives, at almost every moment. If you watch a documentary on hermits, or people who still live lives without technology in various parts of the world, one of their main activities during the day is to get water to their homes. Water for washing themselves, for doing the dishes, for cleaning their homes, for cooking, for drinking, for bathing the kids, and a hundred other uses. But water is heavy. Carrying it over long distances, from the river to one’s home, is back-breaking work and it can take hours to move enough of it for a day’s needs.
In contrast, see how easy it is for us. Without even a thought, we assume that it’s natural, a sort of right, that we have this little wondrous spring in our kitchens and bathrooms, filled with an endless supply of water for whatever use we might come up with.
But there’s also a darker side to this convenience. In the old times, when most of one’s day was taken up by activities like cooking, farming, washing the clothes, carrying water, and mending clothes, people knew where their day had gone. They would sit down in the evening, tired but happy, knowing that they had done a good day’s work to support themselves and their families.
Today, most of us don’t have this anymore. With the water flowing from the tap, the bedsheets washed by a machine, the clothes not mended but thrown away and replaced, our lives have become empty. Empty of toil, yes, but also empty of meaning at the same time.
What have I done today, all day? Pressed a few buttons around the house. Driven to my workplace and back for a couple of hours. Spent most of the day on a desk, moving papers and email around, and I wouldn’t even be able to say what I achieved with all that. What is was good for, and whom it benefited. The only thing left to account for my day’s work is a number at the end of the month, a number of virtual money units in my bank account.
And what did I do with the time I saved by having these conveniences around my house? I spent it watching TV, watching the lives of other people.
Where has my life’s time gone? What have I really achieved over the past day?
As we look out of the window to today’s new dawn, let’s try and be more conscious about how we spend our time. Not every “chore” is a bad thing. Some activities, like cooking up a meal from scratch, going to shop fresh produce at a farmer’s market, or baking a bread, can be much more than just chores or annoyances. They are the stuff of life. They are what connects us with our lives, our families, the Earth, and the history of all those who came before us and did the same things, in the same way.
When you knead some bread-dough today, or sew a button onto a jacket, you are connecting to centuries-old traditions of people who did exactly the same things. And for a few minutes, your life acquires a meaning, a weight, a personal significance that it didn’t have before.
We all have a choice about how to spend our time. We don’t have less time than previous generations, we actually have a lot more, but we spend it, *kill* it, in front of the TV or playing computer games.
Why not put it to use for something more, something that will provide us with satisfaction, teach us a new skill, and give us a few minutes filled with meaning and purpose?