Time.
What is it? What does it even mean—why have we given it a definite, tangible measurement? We have defined it as the “indefinite” continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. Why then have we boxed it into such a finite sphere? Our lives, marked by each precise second, are so rushed.
If time was not used to measure progress, would we be more content with where its natural flow would have taken us?
Much of what I have learned from this class is the idea of contentment. Why are people afraid of being old? Because society has told them that it would be undesirable to age. Why do people fear dependence? Because the world has industrialized faster than any of could ever possibly imagine—changing us so that we evolve “with the times” to be just as sharp and singular. Aging is an antithesis to this globally accepted mindset. We can’t be content because we have built a world that thrives off discontent and insecurity.
And it seems that in our mad rush to build sleek and unbreakable castles, we have forgotten the minds and the hands that have created these things—the mortal tools that shall fade when these towers still stand. We have made immortality to be the standard when it cannot exist. And in turn, we have left behind those who cannot keep up with this model. In truth, we have also abandoned our youthful selves to this fate.
Our cities today are still being built in a futuristic, modern tone. Only recently have planners realized the human factor of the metropolis. Cities are what they are because of the people. But as we move towards automation and AI, we are taking away the authentic grit, the beautiful human mess that makes the city the intriguing, living entity it is. As I walked around Barrio Logan with my group, all I could see was the big highway that cut through and towered over a thriving, diverse community. Although the amount of pollution—noise and environmental—was alarming, what distressed me the most was that the highway acted as something to take people from Point A to Point B. It drove people away from the journey and forced them into a tunnel vision of focusing on the destination. And as cliché as this may sound, life is all about the journey—the process. Arguably, it’s the quest that’s more important than the end goal. And here in corporeal form, the built environment was constructed to contrast that. And while changing behavior is important in changing the city, the physical surroundings have been built to perpetuate the existing behavior of a “Go! Go! Go!” mentality.
As I assessed the neighborhood, I was struck by how ridiculous the task was. Aren’t cities supposed to be built for people anyway? Aren’t cities supposed to accommodate the mass influx of people who come into its streets year after year? As the population continues to increase, cities are beginning to understand their need to attract revenue, and thereby, their need to upgrade and improve. The metropolis has been built for cars, but now as the population ages in increasing numbers, there’s money to be had—so the city needs to redesigned for the human factor.
In our hurry to save time, the irony is that we have less time today. We have forgotten the connections that we make with others are core to our identity. Okay, so a robot is more efficient, it’s faster. But what does that mean to me? Being with people makes us content. As social creatures, we have forgotten our roots, forgotten that we can’t just run on lights and cogs alone. No matter how old we get, no matter where we are, the presence of another human being makes all the difference. There is joy and simplicity. Yes, there are endless possibilities for conflict but it is potential for learning and growing.
The closing of Casa de Manana’s Friday dance, Etta James’ song “At Last” still echoes on inside me. Will we finally find contentment when we no longer let time dictate when and how we complete things? Is finally understanding that you have always been in control with how and what you use your time for that “At Last!” feeling? We’re only human but I’m optimistic to see how our society can change. There has been so much progress within the last century—there is still so much that can be achieved, understood, and realized. But when will it happen, you ask?
Only time can tell.
What is it? What does it even mean—why have we given it a definite, tangible measurement? We have defined it as the “indefinite” continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. Why then have we boxed it into such a finite sphere? Our lives, marked by each precise second, are so rushed.
If time was not used to measure progress, would we be more content with where its natural flow would have taken us?
Much of what I have learned from this class is the idea of contentment. Why are people afraid of being old? Because society has told them that it would be undesirable to age. Why do people fear dependence? Because the world has industrialized faster than any of could ever possibly imagine—changing us so that we evolve “with the times” to be just as sharp and singular. Aging is an antithesis to this globally accepted mindset. We can’t be content because we have built a world that thrives off discontent and insecurity.
And it seems that in our mad rush to build sleek and unbreakable castles, we have forgotten the minds and the hands that have created these things—the mortal tools that shall fade when these towers still stand. We have made immortality to be the standard when it cannot exist. And in turn, we have left behind those who cannot keep up with this model. In truth, we have also abandoned our youthful selves to this fate.
Our cities today are still being built in a futuristic, modern tone. Only recently have planners realized the human factor of the metropolis. Cities are what they are because of the people. But as we move towards automation and AI, we are taking away the authentic grit, the beautiful human mess that makes the city the intriguing, living entity it is. As I walked around Barrio Logan with my group, all I could see was the big highway that cut through and towered over a thriving, diverse community. Although the amount of pollution—noise and environmental—was alarming, what distressed me the most was that the highway acted as something to take people from Point A to Point B. It drove people away from the journey and forced them into a tunnel vision of focusing on the destination. And as cliché as this may sound, life is all about the journey—the process. Arguably, it’s the quest that’s more important than the end goal. And here in corporeal form, the built environment was constructed to contrast that. And while changing behavior is important in changing the city, the physical surroundings have been built to perpetuate the existing behavior of a “Go! Go! Go!” mentality.
As I assessed the neighborhood, I was struck by how ridiculous the task was. Aren’t cities supposed to be built for people anyway? Aren’t cities supposed to accommodate the mass influx of people who come into its streets year after year? As the population continues to increase, cities are beginning to understand their need to attract revenue, and thereby, their need to upgrade and improve. The metropolis has been built for cars, but now as the population ages in increasing numbers, there’s money to be had—so the city needs to redesigned for the human factor.
In our hurry to save time, the irony is that we have less time today. We have forgotten the connections that we make with others are core to our identity. Okay, so a robot is more efficient, it’s faster. But what does that mean to me? Being with people makes us content. As social creatures, we have forgotten our roots, forgotten that we can’t just run on lights and cogs alone. No matter how old we get, no matter where we are, the presence of another human being makes all the difference. There is joy and simplicity. Yes, there are endless possibilities for conflict but it is potential for learning and growing.
The closing of Casa de Manana’s Friday dance, Etta James’ song “At Last” still echoes on inside me. Will we finally find contentment when we no longer let time dictate when and how we complete things? Is finally understanding that you have always been in control with how and what you use your time for that “At Last!” feeling? We’re only human but I’m optimistic to see how our society can change. There has been so much progress within the last century—there is still so much that can be achieved, understood, and realized. But when will it happen, you ask?
Only time can tell.