At the heart of 4000 Weeks is the issue of planning. If we go along with Burkeman’s of Heidegger which claims we are time, then we are loaded with the life-long burden of planning. As temporal beings, we are clothed in history and come from various backgrounds, constantly being renewed from our expanding histories. We have families, relationships, favorite bands, foods that we hate to the point of nausea, and so on. At the same time, we conduct the dual movement of constantly pushing forward, always stumbling on Future’s tailcoat but never quite reaching it. So every moment presents us with ever-shifting heres and theres.
If the future is always on-coming, always new, always unexpected, then planning should surely appear logical. It’s a life-long between the future and me, so why shouldn't I arm myself so as not to let the future get the jump on me? But at what point of planning—of making painstakingly detailed plans to secure my career, financial security, and marriage—have I bartered the present for the future again and again? For there is no winning condition to this life. New problems will always arise for it is the nature of life to combat problems. Sartre once claimed that he along with his posse of existentialists believed that there is no grand resolution of our issues: “We do not believe in progress. Progress implies amelioration: but man is always the same, facing a situation which is always changing, and choice remains always a choice in the situation.” Now, I take Sartre to be deliberately a little tongue-in-cheek with his phrasing here by going for some sort of pessimistic shock factor. I don’t think he’s denying the intellectual strides we’ve made since the Stone Age or the social upheaval and progress that’s been made in the last one hundred years. Rather, I take him to be claiming that the human condition is incurable. Consciousness by its very nature is a problem-solver. The good stuff doesn’t come to us once we remove those pesky problems such as finding a more permanent living situation, finally making enough money, or finally finding a partner to settle down with. Life is those problems.
While problems certainly come in varying degrees of urgency—there’s a drastic difference between having appendicitis and needing an oil change—we find ourselves in a good supply of problems our whole lives. Rarely, if ever, is there a dull phase when we sincerely ask ourselves “what’s next?” and come up with nothing. There is always work to do as when Burkeman describes the infinite mailbox.
I love a good checklist. Who doesn’t? But I think Burkeman brings up a good point about our intention when we’re pursuing checklists or squashing problems. What do I think waits for me at the end of a checklist? This is supposing I can even make it to the end of the day’s checklist (which I very rarely do). Is that time after completion wholly my own? Do I simply kick up my feet and relax? The truth of it all is there’s always something else that needs attending. Finished with work? Well, now I can finally crack open one of the books on my shelves that have been staring me at for two years now. Maybe I can finally begin to learn French like I’ve told myself I would. Or maybe I can go see the new movie all my friends have been raving about. There doesn’t exist a pure problem-free world at the end of our laundry lists of tasks. We are still confronted with the problem of time delegation only in a new form.
This is important for altering how we approach our sense of productivity. If we are constantly aiming for maximum productivity, always trying to chase that mythical problem-free zone, it’s only natural that we should tread water and never actually get there. The problem is the expectation that we could be there if only we’d put in a little more elbow grease and dedicate a little more of our time. We can easily become weighed down by the guilt that we should be getting more done. This can be seen by my generation’s feeling of always “feeling behind” when comparing ourselves to others. Burkeman attempts to alleviate this guilt by reminding us that, by our very finitude and condition, there is no end goal. No perfect state to achieve.
"no winning condition to this life"-- Oh, I don't know. I think we have, and have had, many exemplars of life's winners. Granted, even more losers. But surely there's a way to embrace our temporal nature without being cowed by the future's uncertainties. "Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present," said Camus. That might be a winning recipe. For me, staying engaged with WJ's "really vital question" is a winner: "What is life going to make of itself, what is this world going to be?" There must be a way to occupy those questions without sacrificing present enjoyment.
ReplyDelete"Progress implies amelioration: but man is always the same"-- Sorry, Sartre, I think you're just wrong about that. Why did you write those fat books, if you weren't trying to do your bit for progress?
"the human condition is incurable"-- a statement premised on the notion that the human condition is ineradicable disease. I say we don't know that yet. Dr. Sartre is a bit hidebound, I'd seek another opinion.
"...no end goal. No perfect state to achieve."-- But a direction is enough, isn't it, coupled with realism about the limits of our control? Give up perfectionism, commit to meliorism, say I. And try and enjoy the days. As Emerson said, they're gods.
Thoughtful piece, Michael. Can you blog it up a bit?