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January 1996
Editorial
Time: It's Worth More Than Money
By the Editor
Pity poor old Bill Gates, Microsoft CEO and world's richest
man, worth a mere $15 billion or so. In his new book, The Road Ahead, Bill
confesses that he wants more. Not more stocks or yachts. Bill has just turned
40 and wants more time. He confesses that he would even consider an exception
to his rigid stand against gambling, if a dance with chance would win him
more time on earth.
Being rich has shown Bill one of the great secrets, that time
is more precious than wealth. You don't have to be a billionnaire to know
that, but it may help. I believe that our future will be more precious,
more dharmic, more fulfilling if, while adopting much that is exemplary
from the West (System 8, not Windows 95), we keep our ancient sense of time.
Unlike money, time is not the same in the two great hemispheres.
One is linear, the other circular. One is objective, the other subjective.
One is analytical, the other experiential. One is science, the other art.
Take for example the Western penchant for timeliness. In the West we are
always on time. Not a minute late, no matter what. It is an admirably efficient
trait, but demanding, and often at odds with more important matters.
A Christian missionary recounted to me years back his own collision
with time East and time West. He was planning to visit several homes one
afternoon, and to be effective felt he had to come and go quickly on a tight
schedule. Off he went. A little delayed by traffic, a few minutes over his
time budget at the first homes, he began to tighten up, stress out. At each
home, he rushed through his introductions, excused himself early, telling
his hosts that others down the road were waiting for him, that he was late,
and sorry and, whoosh, gone.
The rest of his stay in that village proved useless. He had
managed to offend everyone he met that day, some quite deeply. Only months
later did one among them confide to him that these families had made elaborate
preparation and been prepared to greet him and his wife with the East's
well-known hospitality. All for naught. He learned that time is different
in the East. More leisurely. More human, perhaps, and certainly less important
than people.
Many Hindus are adopting the Western approach to time, rushing
to the temple, rushing away. Giving less and less time to family, to children,
to their sadhana. The results of the Occidental experiment with time are
now in. Proof is there in a million lives that it wreaks havoc with mind
and body, tunes the type-A nervous system to a lethal pitch, alienates those
close to us and denies us life's unhurried moments.
I know of no studies on the different attitudes of time in
East and West, but I have seen both at work and admit each has its strengths.
The Western myth is that time is an object, another possession. You've heard
the old adage "Time is money." We have X amount of it, and, like
money, we "save" it and "spend" it. We want to do more,
accomplish more, and time is the limiting factor, the enemy instead of the
ally; with this as our premise, we seek to control time, waste it less,
manipulate it more. Time, we perceive, flows like a river from here to there,
from birth to death. Our intellect focuses on this linear progression, and
knowledge about the past proliferates, as do worries about the future (everyone
knows what happens when we run out of time).
The myth of time is different in the East. It is not our possession;
we are its! Time is a wheel, and by staying at the center of its cyclical
movement we are eternally now. In this centeredness we are more interested
in what is than what was or is to be. In this centeredness, there is plenty
of time for everything we need, an eternity of time right now. No limits
on spending. No tight budgets. No sense of loss if we are enjoying our friends
or walking aimlessly in the forest. Time is our friend.
In the West time is small. Our largest measure is the millenium.
References to history rarely extend back more than a few thousand years,
six max. It's like viewing reality on a 12-inch Sony Trinitron.
In the East, time is projected on the large screen. There are
words that communicate a far vaster and more scientifically accurate vision
of the extent of time in our universe. We have the four yugas, or
ages of man, the shortest being 432,000 years and the longest 1.728 million.
Taken together these four make a manvantara, which is 4.32 million
years. But that is just a little tick on the cosmic clock. One thousand
manvantaras make up half a kalpa, totalling 4.32 billion earth
years, which is the duration of one day or night of Brahma. Two kalpas
complete the Day of Brahma. In each inconceivably immense cycle of creation,
preservation and dissolution, Brahma or God lives for one hundred of His
years; the present is sometimes said to be His fifty-first year of life.
Time in the East is big, as big as life.
Time in the East is not neutral, not indifferent to us. Time
is more a relationship to man than a thing. Some times of the day and the
fortnight and the year are auspicious, while others are not. Some periods
are friendly to our enterprises, others are antagonistic. The quality of
time thus becomes far more central to human need and effectiveness than
the quantity. A one-hour creative firestorm yields a thousand times more
than a year in the life of a couch potato. Seeing time thusly, we seek less
to master it than to cooperate with it.
Eastern time is based on natural things, on observable cycles.
Of course, most Hindus have accepted, out of marketplace necessity, the
Western, solar calendar. But the Hindu calendar, called Panchanga, is predominantly
lunar, and designed to keep one constantly in sync with stellar movements
that affect our being. We follow such a calendar at our Hinduism Today offices.
I hope one day Hindus will return to their sacred calendar. The next time
you're rushed, stop a moment. Think about our patient path and the old rishis
who crafted it.
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