By the time I reached university, the grip of procrastination had already begun to tighten its hold—even though the term had not yet gained popularity. The professor assigned homework on Monday, but that day wasn’t conducive to writing; Tuesday felt too distant from the deadline; Wednesday seemed drowsy and inclined towards rest; Thursday was fraught with distraction; Friday beckoned with opportunities for exploration with friends; Saturday was reserved for leisurely pursuits; Sunday was marked by weariness and malaise. I labored late into the night, tears tracing silent paths down my cheeks, diligently completing my assignment, submitting it on Monday with a relieved exhale, granting me a surplus of seven days…
While I idled and wandered aimlessly during my four years as an undergraduate, I secretly admired my friend M. Over those same four years, she garnered scholarships, engaged in extracurricular work, orchestrated events, danced in ballrooms, and obtained a minor in computer science… Subsequently, M pursued a doctoral degree and welcomed three children into the world.
Another individual I held in high esteem at the time was the esteemed senior L, who stood three echelons above us. L, too, secured scholarships annually, attained a doctorate, and ventured into McKinsey. Recently, he transitioned from a position as a McKinsey partner to assuming leadership as the head of the Gates Foundation in China. Concurrently, he pioneered the development of a revolutionary garment…
I lack offspring, I lack the acclaim of entrepreneurial ventures, and I am besieged by sundry deadlines each passing day. A study reveals that 34% of individuals share my sentiment, feeling suffocated by the sluggish passage of time. 40% lament their dearth of financial resources, yet yearn for more time. 61% bemoan the absence of leisure; a concept unfamiliar to them. Though empirical evidence may suggest solidarity in my plight, I cannot help but ponder: Are there two archetypes of individuals in this world? Those who effortlessly discern the allocation of their time, and those who can only hum a melancholic tune of “Where has the time gone?”
Psychologist Zimbardo posits not two, but six—six temporal orientations, dictating whether we dwell in the past, present, or future. Our perception of time permeates every decision, every action. Indeed, one’s temporal perspective is synonymous with their outlook on life. Your temporal disposition determines the trajectory of your existence.
Those endowed with foresight, who harbor aspirations, adhere to meticulously crafted plans, and possess the fortitude to resist diversions, embody a “future time perspective.” They fixate on distant horizons, enduring the toilsome and mundane present in pursuit of a brighter tomorrow. Individuals inclined toward a future-oriented perspective are revered as paragons of efficiency. Provided they evade untimely demise, they often attain commendable feats.
Those who relish the journey, embracing the pleasures of the moment, adopt a “present hedonic time perspective.” This cohort fuels a burgeoning market within the entertainment industry. They are epicureans, cinephiles, even daredevils. They revel in music, forge connections, follow their passions, ablaze with fervor. Yet, on occasion, they awaken to the realization of unfulfilled obligations, mired in a cascade of neglected tasks.
Conversely, those who wistfully reminisce, cherishing the past, epitomize a “positive view of time in the past.” Nostalgic for bygone days, enamored with tradition, they relish familial gatherings, steeped in reminiscence.
Whether fixated on the future, ensconced in the present, or ensnared by the past, each temporal orientation has the potential to engender a life replete with contentment. However, certain temporal dispositions pose formidable obstacles to flourishing in this mortal realm.
Individuals besieged by circumstance, resigned to the caprices of fate, adopt a “present fatalistic time perspective.” Convinced of the insurmountable complexity of their predicament and their own impotence to effect change, they retreat into passivity, relinquishing all aspirations and resigning themselves to divine providence.
Others, scarred by grievous setbacks of yore, remain ensnared in the shadows of their past, embodying a “negative view of time in the past.” Haunted by unpleasant memories, lamenting missed opportunities, they yearn for absolution from past misdeeds, convinced that present misfortune is the bitter harvest of bygone transgressions.
Every individual is born with a “present hedonic time view.” Yet, with age, one gradually assimilates alternate temporal perspectives from societal exemplars or personal experiences. Zimbardo contends that the optimal temporal outlook isn’t solely future-oriented, but rather a harmonious equilibrium among the three temporal perspectives—where one remains unshackled from the past, attuned to the present, and cognizant of the future, investing time judiciously in the pursuit of a fulfilled existence.