If I’m lucky and live to my mid-80s, I probably have about 2,080 weeks left.
Oliver Burkeman brought this fact to my attention in his book Four Thousand Weeks, which takes its title from the amount of time most of us have on this earth. It really wasn’t an easy thing to process. Not only might I need to abandon the idea that I can‘get everything done’ by managing my time that little bit better, I might also need to accept that beautiful stationery – bought in the hope that it would finally see me triumph over my to-do list – is more of a luxury than a solution.
Instead, I might need to change my relationship with time. One of the most striking metaphors Burkeman uses is that of a river – we are immersed in time just as we might be in immersed in flowing water. We can’t manage it, spend it, save it or organise it because we don’t ‘have it’. All we ever really have is now. I thought I was doing OK – getting things done, balancing it all – but Burkeman’s thesis stopped me in my tracks. He challenges us to have patience. If we rush and live for tomorrow then we miss today. He speaks of the joy, rather than the fear, of missing out, and his conclusion brings with it a profound peace in which we can let go of the tyranny of self-imposed and unattainable standards of productivity.
Does this mean we must also let go of big and ambitious goals? Is it better to dilute our new year’s resolutions into intentions? I don’t think so. Ultimately what the book advocates is prioritisation – because we can’t do everything, we must carefully choose what we want to dedicate ourselves – and our precious 4,000 weeks – to. I particularly like his suggestion of having multiple lists (and not just because it requires stationery): a to-do list with only one or two really important things on it; a waiting list of things I might get to when I finish something on the list above – and most liberating of all – a list of things that I’m choosing not to be great at this week, month or year.
As a leader you might find the idea of such lists impractical – who ever gets to choose just one or two things? But I wonder if this reflects what we actually do already; shifting our attention as issues arise and knowing that things will move up and down the agenda over time. What’s potentially different is the idea of being intentional about navigating those ebbs and flows. The idea that by choosing our focus now, we might shift our attention with less of a sense that we’re unwittingly neglecting something more important. We could move in time with less fear and less guilt.
You’ve made it this far into the post, so you’re probably waiting for the magical tips that will get you closer to managing your time better. But in the spirit of the book, I decided to ask some questions instead:
- What really matters to you right now and what are you going to do to stay focused on it? What might change? What practices will help you to keep reflecting what you’re doing now and why?
- If you’re a leader, what steps are you taking to create an environment in which your team thrives without you there? How do you set others up to succeed so that your impact might extend beyond your 4,000 weeks? What trees are you planting knowing that you will probably never sit in their shade?
- What one change could you make that would help you pay attention to today? What would it be like to treat the next thing you do as maybe the last time you will ever do it?
According to my 10-year-old son I don’t need to worry – 2,080 weeks “is absolutely loads”. But I’m still glad that reading the book and asking these questions made me switch off my phone and focus on him and his brother right now. Because whatever the week, now is all I really have.
