I woke up in paradise. An afternoon nap in the heat of the Italian summer was bought to an abrupt end by the hourly ringing of church bells. I felt disorientated , fatigued by the heat and the infernal mosquitoes (I had been warned) but after swilling my face and stepping out into an evening of typical mountain serenity, I felt nothing but peace. Even the white blotches that covered my arms and legs seemed to lose their itchiness.
It was early evening in the Tuscan village of Bennabio. My family and I were staying at a house we rented from a teaching colleague of mine. My family had gone out, to La Lucciola di Bennabio, a bar in the centre of the village. But rather than wake me, they’d gone out without me which was fine. This was not something we’d do at home, family affairs were events with times that we were expected to adhere too. But time in that mountain village seemed very different, it was noticeably slower.
I made my way along to La Lucciola, an outdoor bar with an open air dance floor. Here people were dancing, they were not moving with the assurance of those schooled in ballroom, no between them they had four left feet, they were older and dancing the night away without a care in the world. They looked happy, at peace with themselves. And why shouldn’t they? Dancing with a loved one on a warm summer’s evening under the starry Tuscan night sky. Others played draughts or cards, some just sat and chatted with friends. The evening seemed to fly by yet last forever. I enjoyed every minute. Gradually, visitors and villagers take to the dance floor, emboldened by the local vino. They take little if any coercion. I felt something like joy watching it.
A nation sits divided by Love Island. The lovers sit glued to it religiously. For an hour each night they devour the drivel of cosmetically enhanced chancers bemoaning their lost loves and the torturous nature of anteing up again in the high stakes game that is ‘lurve.’ It starts at 9 by which time I’m done with work and use that last hour of light to escape into the countryside to be myself, to switch my head off for some much needed peace and quiet.
I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately. As I approach my 42nd birthday (am I really that old?) I feel the familiar feeling of time whizzing by, the urge to live more in the moment etc. However, it is the denial of time that weighs heavily on me. It’s still warm and bright in the valley yet I know in less than an hour the sun will have sunk behind the hills and the temperature will drop given the sky is cloudless. Time plays tricks on us, it lulls us into a false sense of security.
I think of the contestants on the aforementioned reality TV show. At that age they are the way they are in part because they don’t think about time in the way I do, it does not weigh upon them yet they are part of a world that operates at a greatly accelerated pace or that’s how it seems through my eyes. Unless you’re in prison, the last thing you want is for time to accelerate. It forces you to confront uncomfortable truths about the realities of the future, a future you feel is racing towards you.
So that’s why I’m in the valley with minutes to spare before nightfall. It puts the brakes on these feelings and the physical space is reassuring. You can find comfort in solitude and time is slowed down. Now, I can see what I have and take comfort in knowing what I’m about, how I want to spend my time and with whom I want to spend it.
I see so many people stressed and hassled by their jobs and the squeeze their working lives puts on their time. That sinking feeling of having to return to work, to jobs which dominate people’s lives. Very few professions have not seen a rise in absences due to work related stress. I’m always impressed by people who quietly manage the ‘work life’ (surely it should be life work?) balance and people do because deep down we know our time is limited and when unshackled we can do rewarding things with it.
But I also feel for the people who cannot muster the energy to lift themselves up off the couch on an evening. I sympathise because motivation hasn’t/doesn’t always come naturally to me. I don’t feel the need to compete in iron man but I know I need to rid myself of the temptation of box sets and take aways.
Ultimately, we have to figure out how we spend our time. If we do the same thing over and over again we might find a comfort and security in the routine but will we find regret nestled in there when time is short.
How we spend our time defines our state, our condition. Whether it’s a tango under a Tuscan moon or a game of chess with a glass of local unlabeled wine to hand. When we find what nourishes us, what settles us, time loses its grip. As Dylan Thomas puts it, though time holds us ‘green and dying’ we want to sing ‘in our chains like the sea.’
