Letter to my Children: Cultivate Kairos Time

Dearest beloveds,

The Ancient Greeks had two words for time: chronos and kairos. “Chronos is the ticking of the clock, the zombie steps of just getting on with life… Kairos means “the right moment.” - the opportune time. It stops the clocks.” (Thank you Jonny Thomson of Mini Philosophy for that succinct summary.)

Our modern culture thrives on chronological time. Constantly checking off commitments in a schedule of doings causes our awareness to skim along the surface of life. I highly recommend cultivating regular moments where you can slow to appreciate the magic of life.* It is only once once you pause, lower your shoulders, unclench your butt, take three breaths that the opportune time becomes apparent. Kairos resides outside of the rush.

I see chronos time as a river moving us along inside of a permeable straw. The straw membrane has many facets: the thoughts of “I have three minutes to get Y done before I need to do X,” the chest tightness scarfing down lunch before your next appointment; the jogging back to the house to collect forgotten car keys when already late. Speed is what propels us inside of the straw.

Kairos time is the wealth of life resting right outside the membrane. The space of dreams and love and peace. How to exit the pull of the chronos river?

Pause.

That’s it.

I have spoken about this before, but it is important. Our current modern speed burns us somatically, locally, and globally. Pausing cultivates and expands our awareness of time - soothing the inferno.

Please, my children. We are doing this with you now in the hopes that these are lifelong skills you can carry with you. Step outside of time regularly. Daily. Monthly. Yearly.

Pausing allows your mind and body to settle down enough that you can listen to what your heart is telling you to do.

Daily you can leave chronos with small pauses. Meditation works beautifully. Exercising, sports, gardening, all of these things take us outside of time (and are good for our physical bodies). Writing, reading, playing games, singing - all stop time.

This is why your mother has started lighting a candle before I cook. I am trying to remember to take 15 seconds to pause, to pray, to collect myself. Vibrating loving calm energy instead of vibrating frazzled energy into your dinner feels like a better choice.

Monthly you can leave chronos with longer pauses. Tending a fire for a few hours lends itself to that kind of a pause. Recently, your father and I did this. I watched the swallows dive and swerve over the field catching evening insects. The light deepened into seeing fireflies blaze sporadically. I sent my What If monster thoughts into the fire to be transmuted, burned away, dissipated. We said thank you to The Good. Stories bubbled to the surface that had not yet been shared between the two of us. Time stopped.

I find extended pauses outside of chronos make the constraints of chronological time more visible. Extended pauses showcase the pitfalls and issues with our modern chronological obsession - the digital acceleration - the ideology of progress.

This is why we went to India for almost three weeks. This is why we recently had this conversation as we drove to an airport.

“Why are we going?”

“There are many reasons. Not least of which is the importance of stepping away from our relentless schedule - into Divine time. Don’t you want to have a day where your mother is not asking you to grab a water bottle before we run out the door?”

“Yes please!”

“And there you have it.”

The next time we play cards - I am going to name it for the two of you as kairos time. The expansiveness of the moment flooding our awareness with possibilities, prospects, openings, and awareness. The space to react to the dictates of the moment without the maw of time breathing down our necks.

Thank you for being my beloveds. So grateful I am.

*I guess this is your mother’s “stop and smell the roses” missive, hehe.