Time without clocks

Can you imagine a day without time? No need to be here, or rush to get there. Just, here, now?

I recently got back from a rock climbing trip. Three days spent camping, climbing & contemplating. All spent between a cliff and the sea with 5 others, all friends from our University’s climbing society (apart from one, who’s an honorary member). From the moment we met till the moment we parted, there was never a mention of the time. We had spent three days together, and not once been concerned about it. It was a magical experience. Something we all noticed.

Changes come with spring

It’s that time of year again: the days are just getting longer, there’s a rainbow of blossom, the sun is higher in the sky, and everyone seems just a little bit happier. For those of us in the education system, this means one thing: exams & deadlines!! A time where we want to be outside, but force ourselves to be at a desk, trying to learn that equation off by heart (the one that you’ll never have to remember), or linking social theories together in order to create a somewhat coherent theoretical framework for an essay. Days getting longer generally means more time to revise.

Getting away

It was with this in mind that the 6 of us planned a trip away: the calm before the storm. We arrived at the Isle of Portland Monday afternoon, parked our cars and hit the crag. The sweet afternoon warmth touching our skin as we climbed on the limestone. Spending the afternoon climbing, and with the sun beginning to set, it was time to find a spot to camp. We wanted to be right by the crag when we woke up, and (as with most students) we don’t have much money, so we decided to wild camp.

Sun setting over the horizon from the Isle of Portland

We found a beautiful spot, protected from the wind by two boulders, looking out onto the sea, a safe distance away from the cliff. As the moon woke from its slumber, we had finished putting our tents up. We heated our pre-made pasta and had a few beers before hitting the hay. Happy to be resting our weary bodies. Eager for the next day.

Awaken by the sun, we crawled out, and were surprised by the awe of the view we had half seen the night before. Endless sea in front of us, beautiful rock to climb behind us! Unfazed by it being early or late; we had coffee, cereal bars and chocolate spread; packed our tents away and went for a full day’s climb. Only stopping once to satisfy our stomachs with a local pub lunch. The day seemed to last forever and it was the reddish hues in the sky that hinted to us that we are nearing the end. Not a clock, telling us the day is over. Nor the fact the library is closing due to the Easter break. This evening a camp fire was in order. The spot we had adopted as home, had obviously been someone else’s before. Stones indicating a fire place were already there, and we only had to add the wood.

There is something special about sitting with friends by a campfire. The warm glow in everyone’s face, seems to bring people closer together. Flames twist and dance in the darkness of the sky, unaware of themselves, completely free. The spectators of the dance are in turn engulfed by a blast of smoke – as if to wake them up from their trance. Time is lost in these moments.

The final day came, and what a glorious day it was. The wind had died down, the sun was turned up to 11. A few uni friends, who lived in the local area, joined us for (what I imagine was) the afternoon. We got another full day of climbing in, ate couscous for lunch, and, alas, it was time to head home. Loading up our gear, we made a quick trip to the pub for dinner again, and then headed homeward. A journey back, back to reality, back to responsibility, back to work. We had to un-press the pause button, and be controlled by time once more.

Timelessness in a timed world

Back home, the very next day, I was in front of my laptop, typing away at an application for a conference I want to attend. I was thinking about dates and deadlines. Where I have to be next weekend, when I’m going to go here and how to meet them, there. Catching up with everything I had left behind. I had completely lost the timelessness of the previous three days. Life, once again, was in hyper mode and my brain was loving the adrenaline and dopamine kick from it.

Simultaneously, I instantly missed the serenity I had felt sitting in a harness 20m up a cliff with the sun on my back and sea breeze in my hair. This was a sign. A sign to take back control. Finding the moments of timelessness in a day and cherishing them. Meditating in the mornings, when the air is fresh, the birds are chirping and my mind is clear. To be present in my work and in moments of joy.

'My realisation is that we need time to forget about time, from time to time.' Click To Tweet

So find moments in your day when you can loose track of time.

Share some love