The Philosophy of Present Tense Living

Present Tense Living is about appreciating life in the here and now.

Our consumerist society, for all the advantages it offers, has the big disadvantage of relentlessly pulling us toward a promised future of bliss. Happiness is always just one more promotion, or one more purchase, or one more move away. Once we gain something we think we want, our pleasure in the gain often is all too fleeting, as quickly our thoughts turn to the next big thing.

Does the following sound familiar? 

You seek to be “happy.” Happy is some combination of health, wealth, and relationships.

So you go to work to earn money. You try to work at something “meaningful” or that somehow contributes more than money to your happiness. Work—and the commute—takes more time than you would like. So you start trying to “save time.” You multi-task. You time-shift (e.g., you work a flex schedule from 7a to 4p). You place-shift (e.g., you Blackberry at your kids' soccer practices). You let work seep into personal life and personal life seep into work. You tell yourself this is “balance.” You try to optimize this balance of money and time.

All this happens against the backdrop of our culture that says you can “have it all.” You can make the most of every opportunity. You can be a great dad, a perfect mom, a smart investor, a buff athlete, a desirable lover, and a dedicated volunteer, all at the same time. It’s hard to fit all that in, but you feel like you should. (After all, the magazines and TV shows say you can and should.) So you sleep a little less. You try to become more “efficient.” You multitask even more. You rush. You hurry. You demand that others do too. (How many times a week do you tell you kids to “Hurry up!”)  Welcome to the rat race! You’ve entered the track and you’re well on your way to a life of hurry and scurry.

So: are you happy?

For many people, the answer is: "not exactly." Yes, there are material benefits to our efforts. Yes, the kids are in a good school and get lots of cool stuff. Yes, we have the big house and the big TVs and the big cars. But somehow, we don't feel as happy as, in theory, it seems that we should. Why?

I believe we get so caught up in the rat race--the chase--that we fail to appreciate the milestones that we pass along the way. The idea of present tense living isn't to abandon the race and get off the track; instead, the idea is to slow down and enjoy the route. Notice the buildings along the road; slow down to chat with the spectators lining the way; stop and smell the roses growing in the field beside the turn.

Does that mean you have to give up on winning the race? Perhaps....or perhaps not. (Remember the tortoise and the hare!) I think it is more helpful to redefine "winning": it is not he who crosses the line first, or with the most stuff collected along the way, who wins. Rather, a winning race is a race well run, with a big collection of relationships and experiences enjoyed along the way. Who among us knows how long our race will be, anyway? Better to enjoy it as we run, lest we save all our enjoyment for a future that never comes.

Present Tense Living is about deciding what is important to you, and making that the focus of your life. Don't let a consumerist, materialistic culture decide for you how much to work, and what to spend your money on, and with whom to socialize. Be deliberate about what you will do; do one thing at a time; take time to do it right; enjoy and appreciate the benefits that today offers. Don't ignore the future, but don't be beholden to it either. Live in the present tense!

The Background of Present Tense Living

I've just spent two weeks of vacation in the Smoky Mountains during which I did no writing, but did do lots of thinking about writing. Specifically, while gazing at distant peaks, I found myself inspired to return to first principles and describe, for myself and my readers, just what I mean by "Present Tense Living" and what is the philosophy that drives my musings.

But before I set forth the philosophy, I think it will be helpful to provide the background for my thinking about matters of time and life. It is now a trite observation that life in the 21st century moves very, very fast. The immediacy with which we can communicate, research, and share information would be unthinkable to anyone living just 75 years ago. With current technology we can do more work, alone, from our living rooms than our grandfathers could do in their offices with an assistant or two at their disposal.

And as these things seem to go, once we CAN do work anywhere, it quickly becomes the norm that we SHOULD do work anywhere. The pressure to be always available, productive, and active is relentless, both from our employers and from our families, friends, and even ourselves. We can do more in less time, the thinking goes, which is unquestionably good because if we do more, we can have more, and then we will be happy.

As I pointed out in this early post, I was eventually struck by the fact that all my busyness wasn't necessarily directed at things I meant to be, or wanted to be, doing. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that a lot of the busyness was a front; that in a culture that worships work, to appear NOT to be busy is to be a misfit, a "nerd," as it were. Plus, if the do more=have more=be happy equation holds, then all the busy people around me should be very happy. Yet, my own observations of my friends and colleagues, plus anecdotal evidence from articles and surveys, shows that Americans as a whole aren't any happier now than they were 40 years ago. Could it be that the entire premise under which we are all living is false?

So, against this background of pressure to constantly do more, to be better, to have it all, I began wondering if there was another way. I eventually realized that all this searching for the next big thing, for the key to happiness, caused me constantly to be living in the future. (Once I get _______, then....." or, "As soon as I finish_______, then........") On the other hand, when things didn't go just right, the thing to do was search my past for something or someone to blame. ("If my parents hadn't _______, then.....", or "If my old boss had only _________, then......") In essence, like most people, I was always either looking forward or backward--anywhere but in the here and now, appreciating what I had today. I began wondering: how much of life right around us do we miss, because we are scanning the horizon in front of us or behind us looking for something else? What if I could learn to live in the present, appreciating and enjoying the world around me, today, and what I already have rather than getting caught up in the constant scramble for more, more, more? Perhaps that could be a happier existence, even if it meant doing less or having less over the long run.

Thus began my reading, thinking, and writing about life in these fast-moving times, and how to "live in the present tense." Over the next few posts I'll outline my philosophy as it exists today, based on my reading and writing and thinking so far. Some of it will be new, some of it is just explicitly stating some of the principles I've already referred to in this blog. You may agree with it or think I'm crazy, but I hope to at least encourage you to think about why you are doing what you are doing, and whether it is the best way to live a full life. Let me know what you think.

Ways to Slow Down

Is it just me, or do people seem to be rushed more than ever this summer? I would have thought that things would be moving at a more languid pace given the macroeconomic slowdown, and indeed my friends who have been laid off from their jobs are indeed forced to move more slowly, since they have nowhere to go. But for the majority of my acquaintances who still have jobs, the microeconomic effect of the recession seems to actually be to speed things up.

Offices are doing more with less, meaning the people left behind are swamped. Some people have had hours or pay reduced and so are working an extra job to try to make up the income. Some companies still have aggressive growth targets in the face of the recession, and so workers are having to press harder to try to make the targets. Whatever the cause, it seems the world is speeding up even more than it had been even a few months ago.

Add pressure of financial setback--whether in reduced salary, or loss of bonus, or the fall in 401k or college fund value--and it can feel like you have to run even faster just to keep up. Speed can be beneficial, of course, but speed also kills. In emotional terms, it is the stress that speed creates that can lead to emotional breakdowns, health problems, and neglected relationships. Dealing with that stress thus becomes a vital skill, on par with the finance, or marketing, or human resources, or programming, or whatever skills you need to excel at your job.

I don't have all the answers for dealing with stress, and different people will find different solutions that work for them. But the main theme of the stress reduction techniques that work for me is this: Slow Down! Here are some ways I do it:

1. Do Less. If job or school pressures have increased, our tendency is to add the new responsibilities to our previous list and try to cram it all into our already-harried lives. If I try to do that, it guarantees mediocrity. So, when I start to feel the stress of too much to do, I prioritize and cut out one or two activities at the bottom of the list. If I'm already down to my core activities, then I look for ways to do them more efficiently, like changing a client meeting from a visit (requiring travel time in addition to meeting time) to a conference call. But realistically, there are always one or two activities that I can cut out without affecting my job or my family.

2. Set priorities. Even after I've culled my activities, my daily to-do list is often long. So I next look at it with a focus on deadlines: what MUST be done by today or tomorrow? I then do those things first, to make sure they get done. Some tasks have very clear deadlines: if I have a client meeting tomorrow, then I know I've got to finish my presentation by the end of the day today. It must be my priority. I like what Merlin Mann has written about priorities: "true priorities are like arms; if you think you have more than one or two, you're either lying or crazy." There are lots of things that are important to me, but on any given day there are very few must-do priorities. If I'm honest about what HAS TO be done today, and do that first, then my stress level goes down.

3. Don't forget to live. For me, that means don't skip meals and breaks. I may not linger over a three course lunch, but I will still leave my desk, walk outside with a sandwich, and take a 20- or 30-minute break from my tasks. Better yet if I can get someone to go with me so that I can have a human conversation, preferably about something other than the task I'm working on. I return from these breaks refreshed and ready to work again. And only very rarely will I not stop at an appropriate time and go home to eat dinner with my family. Again, the interaction with other people, the break from the monotony of a task, the reminder of life outside of work, far from being a waste of time, actually makes my work better. Remember, we are working to live, not living to work. Don't shortchange your life, and your work will be better.

DO LESS is probably not the advice you would expect, but it works wonders for me. What do you do to manage the stress of the modern world?

Understanding the Amish

It turns out the Amish, who outwardly seem so different from the rest of us, may not be so different after all. This article in the Wall Street Journal last week describes the Amish community in northern Indiana that partially joined modern society by taking jobs in the region's RV factories during the boom years in the middle of this decade. The result? For many, an increase in debt; a weakening of the traditional community ties, replaced by a more assertive individualism; and conspicuous consumption. (I would love to see one of the horse-drawn buggies with LED lights--who would have thought there would be a way to "pimp my buggy"?)

I think the article reflects more on mainstream American culture than on Amish culture. Take adults who have been raised outside our culture and drop them in, and what happens? The urge to spend takes hold almost immediately. Spending more then causes selfishness, as the list of wants exceeds the available cash, and so generosity and community-mindedness suffers; plus, now that work is so necessary to earn the money to buy the stuff, time is hoarded for selfish pursuits instead of community pursuits. Finally, the need to show the world this new bargain one has made (trading work for money and stuff) leads to pride and the purchase of "positional goods"--stuff that displays one's new status to others. The process is very clear in the case of the Amish, because they started outside of the culture and were thrown into it. But what about those of us who were raised in it?

It is very, very difficult to break the habits that your cultural upbringing has left you with. We are subject to the same cultural pressures: the focus on material things as a sign of success; the pressure to buy stuff to display our economic status; the push to work harder and longer to be able to afford more of the stuff to impress the people around us. To us this is "normal", and thus very, very hard to break out of. Unlike the Amish, we have no other community to go back to, no community organized under principles of collective living and modest consumption. If we so choose, we have to go it almost alone in living counter to the prevailing ethos. That makes it very, very difficult to adopt a lifestyle that avoids overwrought consumption.

Friends Forever?

Most of us would claim that relationships are one of the important things in our lives. Even if we discard boyfriends or girlfriends with alarming regularity, or we've traded an old spouse for a new one, or we spend way more time with our MacBook than with our so-called friends, we at least pretend to value relationships above stuff.

This is partly because, in theory, a relationship--especially the strongest bonds, like parent/child or husband/wife--will endure longer than any material object. Fortunes come and go, fame is fleeting, jobs change; but we hope that at least one special person will always be there for us. We pledge to our spouse to be there "till death do us part." Relationships matter because relationships endure. True wealth is being rich in relationships.

So I was struck by the total lack of support from any loved one for Bernard Madoff at his sentencing hearing in New York yesterday. (Read about it in the WSJ or the FT.) There was no one there to support him except his attorney, who is paid to be there. According to the WSJ, he "appeared without a single member of his family in attendance." Furthermore, in the days leading up to the sentencing hearing, Judge Denny Chin received more than 100 letters from victims of the fraud urging a tough sentence, but not a single letter or statement of support for Mr. Madoff.

Now, no doubt Mr. Madoff committed a heinous crime, carrying on the largest financial fraud in history for over 15 years, and evidently since his arrest he has not fully cooperated with the authorities trying to unravel the fraud, contributing to the maximum sentence of 150 years he received. He apparently deceived even his own wife and sons, who would normally be expected to stand with him through thick and thin. There is no way for a bystander like me to understand the sense of hopelessness of his victims, many of whom went from wealthy to paupers overnight, or the betrayal felt by his family.

But, still. Even murderers usually have someone--a mother, a brother, a friend--that stands with them for emotional support, not defending them or condoning the action, but being there to say "I care." Did Mr. Madoff not have a rabbi who could provide religious support? Did he have no friends who were unaffected by the fraud who were willing to stand with him while the victims excoriated him in public, to silently say by being there, "you are still human"?

Certainly during the boom years of the fraud, Mr. Madoff had a lot of friends. He had yachts and homes; he offered fancy dinners and expensive gifts; he ran in high circles. I guess we could say more accurately that his money had lots of friends; Mr. Madoff himself was perhaps more lonely. I wonder: which of my friends like me, and which like what I have to offer them? Who am I friends with only because I like their stuff or status, but I haven't even bothered to really get to know them?

I don't know what I would have actually done had I been a friend of Mr. Madoff's; but sitting here from afar, it seems like the Christian thing to do would be to stand with him as the abuse was heaped on him, to pray with him and for him, to assure him that despite his terrible deception, God still loves him. I wonder if I would have the courage to do that.

Most of us will never face such a situation. Instead, we have relationships with people who run into more common problems: kids that make bad decisions; friends who get into financial or other trouble; a spouse who lets us down. Similarly, we will run into our own troubles--a lost job, a stupid decision, a health challenge. I hope I am building the kind of relationships that will leave me with someone standing behind me, even when most have abandoned me. I hope that I will have the courage to stand behind my closest family and friends, even if their own actions have got them into predicaments that I don't approve of. "Friends are friends forever" says the old song--no matter what.

Staycation

My wife and I marked our anniversary last weekend by taking a "staycation" right here in Atlanta. At a charity auction last fall we had won a two-night stay at the Marriott Marquis in downtown Atlanta, so we used it to celebrate our 13 years of wedded bliss. Thanks to the inlaws for taking charge of the four bambini while we were away!

A "staycation"--vacationing at home--is enjoying a moment of popularity right now because of the financial advantages of not having to pay for journey expenses. But we experienced another benefit of staying close to home--the chance to see our own city in a new light. We had been downtown many times before--our hotel room had an excellent view of the office building in which I spent about nine years of my professional life--but always with a particular task or destination in mind, after which we turned right around and headed back out. This weekend, by contrast, we could just hang around and see what is going on during both the vibrant party hours of Friday night and the relatively calm mornings of Saturday and Sunday.

Downtown Atlanta is certainly more lively than its reputation allows, but it is not yet ready to be mistaken for New York or Chicago, either. The streetscape suffers from the years of growth and development when the car was put at the center of planning, and so many blocks of downtown are fronted by nothing but parking decks. The scale of buildings and intersections is huge, designed to be admired from afar as you drive in; Atlanta has a glittering skyline seen from your car as you zip along the freeway, but get up close and it is like you are seeing the backstage supports for the set of particularly large-scale movie. There are exceptions: the historic Fairlie-Poplar district, which of course was developed before the automobile, has a more human scale. But overall, when walking around one feels a bit out of place, as if intruding on an industral site.

There is also the unfortunate issue of the Downtown Connector, the freeway that bisects the city and separates the leafy residential neighborhoods from the concrete core. Venture across one of the bridges that spans this river of asphalt, though, and the city is downright pleasant. Both mornings, we walked across the Baker-Highland Connector bridge to Highland Bakery on Highland Avenue. It is only a 15-minute walk but you seem to have entered a different town altogether. The leafy streets, the presence of residents of all types--young, old, single, families--the repurposed old buildings: this part of town has a human scale, and thus is a welcoming environment. It helps too that Highland Bakery has fantastic baked goods, delicious breakfast items, and quite good coffee, too.

After breakfast Saturday morning we walked the streets of Inman Park near the bakery, admiring the century-old homes that have been lovingly preserved and updated and envying the walking lifestyle that these old neighborhoods allow. It was peaceful, fun, and just as different to us as a trip to a faraway city would have been.

So embrace the newfound thrift of our times, and instead of lamenting your lost vacation this year, get out of your routine and your well-trod path to discover a new section of your home city. You might be pleasantly surprised at what you find.

The Art of Slow

The May 2009 issue of Monocle carries an interview with Bruno Contigiani, the Italian founder of the Art of Slow Living movement. (Article available here online for subscribers. If you are not a subscriber, you can find Monocle at Barnes & Noble or Borders in the Current Affairs magazine section.) The focus of the article is Contigiani's imaginary "last meal," but what caught my attention was his definition of time:

Time is defined by the realisation that you do not live forever. When you move slowly, you live life better.

It is counterintuitive, but true: once you come to grips with the fact that you will NOT live forever, that time really is a limit on your life, then you are free to slow down. Once you admit you can't do everything, no matter how hard you try, then you become free to change your focus to doing things well, like Bruno Contigiani does, instead of doing more things.

Contigiani was not born knowing this; in fact, he was a hard-charging PR executive in Italy with a schedule that many of us would recognize: "with every minute packed with activities," he says. But 10 years ago, on holiday in southern Italy, he was seriously injured when he dove onto a rock in the water. During his long recuperation, grateful for his survival, he realized that most people, including him, were not making time to do the important things in life. So he started the Art of Slow Living movement, devoted to appreciating life each and every day.

Remember the Present Tense way to happiness: REM--Relationships, Experiences, Memories. Be rich in these, and you will have a life well lived, whether it is long or short. Let the measure of your life not be found in the area of your house, the balance at your bank, or the letters in your title. Let it be instead be in the number of people who call you friend, the sum of minutes you spend around the table with your family, or the number of stories you can recall of good times passed.

And finally, remember too what Bruno Contigiani says about eating (emphasis mine):

I try to eat healthily but I am not militant about it. We are not trying to live to 140 years of age. We just want to make sure that we stay healthy.

Eat well, and don't feel guilty about it. Life is good--enjoy it!