This week, I received a gift of time. A business trip was postponed. We’d already put a lot of work into it, but it was frankly a relief that it was off the calendar for now. The effort we’ve already invested will still matter when we reschedule in April but for now, the postponement was a gift fee and clear.
I’ve been thinking about time. The gift of time this week was a gift of clock time, but another way to think of the ‘gift of time’ is in terms of the gift of our attention. In an always-on, hyper-connected, and ever-distracted world, giving someone our time and attention is also a gift.
The Chinese have concept ‘to listen with a virtuous heart’. The symbol includes elements of the ear, the eye, undivided attention, you, me, and the heart. By listening and attending to you, I give you the gift of my heart.
When my children were quite young, I heard that children spell ‘love’, T-I-M-E. That idea has stuck with me. We can’t turn our relationships – with our children, our friends, or our family – on and off within the few nanoseconds that exist between meetings or other commitments. We have to pause and focus and attend. We have to create space for the deepest meaning that comes from relationships.
I know, I know, we say to ourselves, I need to disconnect from my device and connect with the people around me. I’ll get to it, eventually. But sometimes we don’t. Yada, yada, yada.
The Hebrew word ‘yada’ means ‘to know’. It also means ‘to do’. In the yada way of knowing, it is impossible to know something and not to do it. If we’re not *doing*, it means that we don’t really *know*. The concepts can’t be de-coupled. If I know I should quit smoking, but I haven’t quit, then I don’t really know. Likewise, if I know the importance of turning off and tuning in, I must do these things.
It turns out that a ‘gift of time’ is a verb. A gift of time is in the giving. Yada.