Taking Time

Some things just take time. No amount of effort is a substitute for time. I remember the two summers during which I wrote my doctoral dissertation. I discovered that no manner how diligently I worked, it took three full weeks of concentrated effort before I was able to first glimpse solutions to some of the major writing challenges.

So I had to chuckle to myself when, three weeks to the day from when I began working on my current sabbatical project, I woke up with new insights into the challenges this textbook was presenting. I don’t know what it is about that three-week window. It seems to be the amount of time it takes me to go from diligence to inspiration. After being immersed in a project to the exclusion of most other concerns, ideas that initially seem to be shooting off in every direction at once begin to take shape. Random clusters of stars begin to form constellations. Order is perceived where chaos once reigned.

I’ve always valued downtime in the summers. One of the advantages of being on an academic schedule is that there are two or three months when the routines are broken. That doesn’t mean it’s time spent doing nothing; but it is a time when one can emerge from that long, narrowly focused tunnel of daily demands. Suddenly the tunnel opens up onto a new landscape, bright with new possibilities. It is a time when creativity is unleashed, ideas are born, and one steps back and sees life from a new perspective. For me, creativity means letting go of the tasks and the demands, and letting my mind wander a bit. I find it hard to nurture new ideas when I’m spending so much effort trying to keep my thoughts focused. Staying focused is great for getting through a normal day, but it is deadly to the emergence of the unexpected. When I give myself time, new thoughts materialize at unusual moments and in unusual ways. Some people tell me that this is when I’m most dangerous. It is the time when I feel most alive and fulfilled.

Sometimes I’m amazed at the simplicity of solutions or new ideas that suddenly come to me by lettingng go of the tasks at hand and allowing new thoughts to emerge. It is so easy to become consumed with pressing issues and find myself surrounded by a thick haze of frustration and confusion. Often when I am stumped, I call my brother. He has an uncanny ability to listen to my long litany of concerns and identify the only two that really matter. The haze begins to scatter and a path becomes clear. I’ve also learned that when I am weighed down by an issue, the first step is to get eight hours of sleep and see how many problems still exist in the morning. Sometimes it is that easy to break the cycle of feeling overwhelmed.

I am grateful to have the time this summer to allow the creativity to run free. I am blessed by colleagues at Temple Beth El who have ably taken over my work in Charlotte so I can pour myself into a project that I hope will make a significant contribution to understanding and preserving synagogue music. It is time immersed in another kind of work so that I will be able to return with new ideas and new perspectives.

Stepping back. Taking time. It’s such an elegantly simple solution. Everything tells us we should. So many people (including ourselves) tell us we can’t. How do we make room for ourselves to grow and discover the wonderful ideas trapped inside ourselves? How do we set aside the expectations and begin to bathe in the possibilities? Simply put, take the time.

L’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor