Looking back at history can be insightful. Take productivity, for example. During the Industrial Revolution, when machines were seemingly able to do anything, productivity experts predicted that machines and technology would result in the reduction of the workday – to 4 hours. So what happened?! What happened was that human beings ramped up their productivity in line with those very machines that were meant to save them time. We became faster, we became better, and we became more efficient. Nothing wrong with that.
Fast-forward to almost two centuries later and, productivity and efficiency are still hot topics. We only need to reach for our smartphones to be bombarded with messages telling us how we can be even more productive. We live in a world of headlines like “4 ways you can stop wasting time today”, “Taking naps at work can make you more productive”, and “How to get more done”. We are led to believe that not a minute in our days should be wasted. We are here to achieve and accomplish, which in turn requires our continuous commitment, hard work and effort. Right?
Of course there is a lot of virtue in all of this. There is enormous value to be gained from “doing” things – not only does it give us something to get out of bed for, it is also what makes life exciting and full of possibility. Plus it helps us have a purpose greater than ourselves. That said it feels like there is a delicate dance happening these days between “doing” and “being”; one that many of us are struggling with. Which begs the questions:
At what point do we become too productive?
When does our quest for productivity and getting-things-done tip over into incessant over-activity?
If it does, what price do we pay?
Here are some thoughts on how we got to where we are in the first place.
We live in a culture that celebrates productivity
Here in Australia we are a “doing” culture. An unfortunate consequence of this is that our external achievements and output can often become synonymous with our perceived value as a person. Just think about when someone asks how you are. Often our default answer is, “busy”. Followed by a top-line synopsis of everything that is keeping us this way - work, looking after kids, house renovations, travel, catching up with friends, seeing family, planning our next holiday etc. etc. Not to mention all the other more mundane tasks that fill our days and don’t deserve a mention (think laundry, cooking, commuting, paying bills, social media…).
Ironically, our excessive busyness can be fuelled by the so-called “solutions” to it. When we become too busy, the cultural messages we receive are that we need to become better at fitting more into less time. We break down our days into hours and minutes to make sure we pack into it everything we possibly can. Don’t get me wrong - there is nothing wrong with efficiency per se. The problem is when productivity and efficiency travel down the slippery slope towards incessant over-activity, and the “doing more in less time” war cry becomes a way of fitting even more into our days and hours. Opening up some much needed space in life for simply “being” is either forgotten or de-prioritised in place of more “doing”. And here in lies the vicious circle of over-activity and busyness – it is about filling up time, rather than opening up space.
It seems inevitable then that our “doing” culture can filter down into our personal belief systems. This can lead to unhelpful beliefs like…
Our self-worth as a person is contingent on our output
For some people this doesn't hold true. Yet for others it is very real.
What would happen if you challenged this assumption? What would happen if you consciously stepped away from your current level of activity and “doing”? What would be left? How would you feel?
These are difficult questions to answer until you find yourself in a situation where you are forced to stop.
My situation was when I had my daughter. I suddenly found myself in a world where my highly engrained “doing” nature had to take a back seat. In the first weeks of having a newborn, I was doing well if I managed a shower in a day. A slightly different benchmark from my usual super-human to-do list. Needless to say, it was interesting to watch myself unravel over time. I felt the discomfort of not “doing” in a big way. I had a few wake-up calls. One was seeing how I behaved when my partner walked through the door each night. I found myself with the urge to spout off everything I had done (or at least tried to get done) that day. And for what?! To justify my existence? To convince myself that I was still worthy as a human being even though my “output” was not evident for all to see?! At the time, I had a hard time convincing myself that it was enough to be nourishing and raising my child. And I know I am not the only mother to have felt this way. This is also where hindsight is a wonderful thing!
It’s often helpful to think about where our deeply engrained beliefs come from and challenge them. In this example, apart from culture, another reason could be that…
We are fighting a collective addiction to “doing”
It’s not unusual these days for people to feel uneasy when they are not actively “doing” something. Unfortunately technology has a lot to answer for.
Enter the smartphone. So perfectly suited to filling in every gap that we once had in our days – on the train, in the lift, waiting in a queue, walking down the street, intercepting dull dinner conversations – you get the picture. They are always accessible which makes them one of the best tools we have to be able to run away from ourselves.
The problem comes when we fill up all the gaps in our day there is no space for spontaneity. There is also no space for us to simply relax and be with ourselves. Our emotional wellbeing is reliant on us to allow the dust to settle, to let things integrate. Yet so many of us leave little time for this in our days. When we lose the basic ability to be with ourselves (or others) without distraction, it could be a sign that we are addicted to our own busyness. And unfortunately we are not alone here – when we are surrounded by others who are equally as busy filling every moment, it quickly becomes a social norm. And breaking away from social norms can be harder to do than staying with the pack.
Yet, ultimately, we all have a choice.
So what is the true cost of over-activity?
As with everything, there are many shades of grey. But I think if we look at the more extreme version of over-activity, it can look something like this:
We disconnect from ourselves. Which essentially means we lose touch with who we are and what we are here for. We are so busy “doing” that we become shut off from our inner world. We forget that we need times of quiet and non-activity to simply allow our minds and bodies to rest and settle. Instead, we live in our heads. We lose perspective. We lose meaning. We (hopefully) wake up one day and start questioning it all.
We miss the ordinary, yet beautiful, moments in our lives. How can we be present for these moments when we don’t allow any space in our day? The fact is we can’t. And the worst thing is, we’re not only shutting the world out, we’re not allowing people or experiences in. Which means…
We disconnect from others. Whether intentionally or not. Over-activity means we have nothing left to give. No time to really listen. Which means our relationships become more functional than meaningful. And, for most of us, that’s not very satisfying.
And the remedy?
I am sure there are many. But, here is one possibility:
We need to be conscious about how we spend our time. We need to be clear on our real priorities. We need to create boundaries, as no one else will for us. We need to be discerning of the expectations we put on ourselves. We need to work out what we can let go of. We need to change the belief that when we are doing “nothing” we are wasting time. We need to be prepared to step away from the “norm”. We need time to slow down. We need to turn off our phones. We need time to reconnect – with ourselves and others. We need to listen. We need white space in our life that remains white. And, most importantly, we need to remind ourselves that we always have a choice.
That is the invitation.
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