“I don’t have time for that. It takes too long to do it that way.” I cross things off my too long to-do list, promising to get more done tomorrow. I tell myself that I need to be more “productive.” I treat time as if it were scarce–in short supply–rather than abundant and eternal.
Our culture of work and spend tells me that time is money. We all need money, right? So how can we possibly take a sabbath?
Perhaps if we imagine sabbath-taking as resistance–as a step toward regaining human scale– it might become possible.
I resist the status quo when I question the value of my life–or any life–as a unit of production, and instead, see each life as a unique expression of the divine energy present in this world, deserving of care and rest.
I resist when I take a sabbath, because when I step away from consuming, I have time to notice what the world really needs–hint: not another manifestation of corporate culture! Taking time for sabbath gives me the necessary spaciousness to reconnect with my creative spark, and use that creativity to solve problems.
I resist when I spend a day without lists or a plan, when I am available to listen to the stories others tell, when I participate in making my community a place of care and concern–volunteering, being neighborly, sharing myself.In those moments, I experience time outside of time. Sacred time.
I sew my own clothes, bake bread and repair what’s worn, not because it’s easier or more efficient, but because when I work with my hands, I am resisting the cultural mandate of new, fast and cheaply made by someone else–the homogenization of my life that’s brought by consuming.
I use the public library and take walks with my neighbors not because I can’t buy books or sports equipment, but because I choose to nurture our common spaces and to deepen human relationships–to share the time I have been given generously, and as an act of resistance.
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