Alongside the church of the “start-up”–a term I recall used only in connection with lawnmowers, once upon a time not so long ago– another sect I’m totally over are the acolytes of “productivity,” with their tomato timer rituals and delusions of control.
Productivity is not the measure of our self-worth, people.
Meanwhile, by Living like My Animal, by which I mean, with as much spontaneity and as little scheduling as possible, moving at the speed my own two legs take me, as often as possible, with as close to full attention and response to the glorious workings of my biochemistry as possible, I have discovered the secret of creating days from hours, weeks from days, and years from months. Years feel like decades and decades feel like lifetimes.
Meanwhile, most everyone else seems to be rushing around parsing their days into ever smaller increments in pursuit of productivity. And missing the point, of Everything, really, entirely.