I wasted time

And now doth time waste me.

William Shakespeare scarcely needs an introduction as his reputation is global and enduring.

He wrote many plays during his relatively short life and is justly remembered for these as well as his sonnets and poems.

His influence on literature and the arts is immeasurable, with his works continuing to be performed and studied worldwide. Many of his plays are revered for their memorable characters, profound themes and skillful use of language. Innumerable quotes exist.

One in particular from Richard II has much to say about how we live our lives, reminding us there is nothing new under the sun. We have seen it all before and the people of Shakespeare’s time grappled with many of the same issues as we do today.

---

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.

Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours.

― William Shakespeare, Richard II

---

What Shakespeare meant

We don’t get forever. Life ultimately ends. As you age you will be reminded of this, that time travels in one direction, like the hands of a clock.

The numbers are there, visible and indelible. You cannot go back.

Over time you will have numerous reminders of the existence of time. Some of these may haunt you.

Accept this, incorporate it into whatever you are going to do, or pay a terrible price. If you waste time, then time will eventually destroy you.

I wasted time

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.

Time marches on. We age. We ultimately decline and expire, our time finally up.

Time, and your life with it, goes in one direction. You can never go back.

No one here gets out alive.

It is something of a farce. Or as Shakespeare would have understood it, a tragedy.

But accepting this blunt reality is the starting point of a new, better life. You won’t be 18 forever. You may not even be healthy forever.

But you do exist, and that is a start.

As long as you remember what time is going to do to you then you have the makings of an alarm system to get you moving.

Time marches on, but you can keep up if you remain aware.

A numbers game

For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.

We become aware time is passing. Perhaps not when young, when it feels we are immortal.

But as we age and hit the milestones. We turn 21, 30, 40 and beyond. We begin to look our age. We begin to obsess over some of those numbers.

Shakespeare uses an accessible concept, the visible passing of time from his era, the numbers marked on a clock face. One to twelve, representing big milestones we obsess over.

But he is aware it is the minutes passing that ultimately damn us.

We notice the hours, but the minutes come thick and fast, and can’t be easily managed.

My thoughts are minutes. Our thoughts race by while life unfolds. Perhaps our worries and concerns or hopes and ambitions. They roll right past while the relentless march of time mocks it all.

Shakespeare points to the clock face, the numbers. Just as we occasionally become aware time is slipping through our hands; an anniversary or a big event happens and triggers a period of reflection.

The same finger pointing to this horror wipes a tear from our eye as we realize time is running out. It is a finite resource and is the most valuable of things, surpassing all others.

It cannot be likened to anything else as nothing else is like time. All the riches in existence mean zero when compared to the most precious resource of all, something few ever learn.

For whom the bell tolls

Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours.

The clock chimes out on the hour. Unlike the clock face itself, the auditory version cannot be ignored.

We cannot turn away from sound and Shakespeare reminds us we also cannot turn away from the ravages of time. No one escapes.

The chime is the sign the hours are passing. They are marked in some unignorable way. And they add up.

That strikes upon Shakespeare’s heart. It hits home as we’d say today. More accurately, it is a phenomenon that is unavoidably there. It cannot be dismissed.

But that despondency means nothing to time itself. The minutes, hours and days roll on regardless of how you feel.

Time is pitiless. It just happens.

This is the horror of time; it rolls forward anyway.

It is coming for us all and it will strip bare the conceits we use to order our lives. The status, the money, the possessions. None of them mean anything in the end. Not to us and not to time.

Experience just a moment of this clarity and life is often instantly recast as we gain a fleeting insight into what really matters.

What are we to make of this?

All of us are subject to time. No one escapes.

Rich or poor, handsome or average, tall or short, all of us age.

We all lose the battle at the end.

But most are unaware there is a battle at all. The passive accept all too easily the current they get swept along in as if they have no control at all. There are people for whom life is something that happens to them. They do not seem like actors controlling their own drama.

Those who confront this battle, who read and reflect on Shakespeare’s famous observation above, may get a little depressed but the awareness conferred is an aid in the invisible battle against time. It is the beginnings of shaking off the passivity that can damn us.

It helps us gird our loins and perhaps up our game. Are you living well? Are you spending time on things that matter? Or are you lost in distraction, hiding from the horrors of the world?

We become aware of time passing, especially as we age. Becoming ever more aware as we get older. We reach a point where we understand the wisdom in the expression, the days are long but the years are short.

It flies by. But some manage to slow it down a little by making each day count. Some have a knack for cramming their lives to the rafters with life itself.

They are the ones to watch. They are doing it right.

Forget the politics and the manufactured dramas, ignore the wars and the great issues. Figure out what really matters to you and fill your life with as much of that as you can. Others around you may already be doing so. The giveaway will be their relative contentment, which is often a cultivated skill in ignoring what is irrelevant.

Is your thing creative work? Is it raising children? Building some great folly? Only you know what matters. It could be time with friends, playing sports with others or going for long walks. There is much we defer. Books we don’t get round to reading and people we never visit. They are life too.

Time is pitiless, but your life needn’t be. Use the awareness to make more of your life now. Don’t be left staring at your clock face wondering why it is 11pm and you’ve not bought the t-shirt, got the girl or made the movie.

At least try, and remember the very best parts of life are rarely recollections of loafing about watching TV or on a beach sipping cocktails.

Your best life will almost certainly not involve a great deal of ease and comfort. Virtually everything we ultimately value costs us something and requires effort.

What we recall with joy are the hard times we overcame, the difficulties and how we survived. No one remembers lying in bed all day with anything except disgust.

A good life is about hardships overcome, bad situations navigated, even crazy near-death events. Life is not meant to be lived passively or fearfully. It is meant to be actively embraced.

Shakespeare’s quote reminds us it is of finite duration and must be filled with all that is meaningful.

So, get moving.

Time wastes us all. But it takes a long time for most of us to get there. Years, months and weeks. Countless minutes.

Make your remaining minutes count. Stop wasting them.

That is the real message behind Shakespeare’s point. You can’t cheat time, but you can maybe bend it a little out of shape.

With awareness it is less likely to creep up on you. Wherever you are in life now in one year you will be a year older, a year closer to the end.

A depressing thought? No, a warning. Make that year count. It is still ahead of you after all.

Today plus one year. Make a note of the date.

What can you do in a year? Most people can utterly transform their lives in a year if they really want to. Twelve whole months from today. Each month has about thirty days inside which you can do a lot. All that doing times twelve.

That’s the message. Not that it ends, but that it hasn’t ended yet. There is plenty more if you change your ways and pay attention. Even the next week, seven days, is a lot. 168 hours. What could you do with that if you got your act together?

Who could you be in a year? The same you? Or someone thinner, fitter, with a new career or new friends? Someone perhaps more content, happy and satisfied with life? A year is a lot of time and it is going to pass anyway.

What are your ambitions? The real ones you keep locked up inside your mind? The things you don’t really tell other people. Do some of that over the next year. Actually do it, don’t just think it.

Fuck time; it is coming for you, but not today. Probably not the next month. Probably not the next year. Don’t squander this irreplaceable period of your precious life­­.

You want to be so exhausted at the end you won’t care. And you do that by being aware it will end and at that stage all the petty nonsense will not matter.

And what of the quote? It is from Richard II and describes the character, King Richard, lamenting the time he wasted. He languishes in prison awaiting death, his fate sealed. Now all he has left is an excess of time to reflect, and too many minutes to appreciate how much of it he wasted.

Comparing himself to a clock, the minutes pass by like his thoughts. Relentless and unstoppable.

A bitter end, full of regret.

But ours needn’t be. We are not imprisoned except by our thoughts and perceptions. There is much all of us can do to improve our lives, to fix all that is broken. It starts by recognizing our life is finite, it has an expiration date. If we are to escape the sad fate of King Richard we must act now.

So, get to it.

---