the tyranny of the calendar
the tyranny of the calendar
The concept of the calendar year is an agrarian anachronism. Farmers know there's a time to plant and a time to reap. Summer, fall, winter, and spring are vital concepts for a planter.
But I'm a knowledge worker, not a farmer. My cycle is the business cycle. Its duration is more likely to be three orbits of the sun than one. Its seasons are Prosperity and Recession. Prosperity is the season to earn. Recession is the season to reflect to reflect. Prosperity is a season to do, recession a season to learn. Prosperity is the season to apply intellectual capital, Recession is the season to buld intellectual capital.
Bookstore shelves are filled with calendars for the next year. Father Time (and Dick Clark) will usher out the old year; a ball will drop in Times Square and Baby Time will come forward in his diaper. People will kiss. Some will resolve to change their ways. Few will keep these commitments, because the agrarian cycle is not in phase with their personal cycles. Less than two out of a hundred of us are farmers now. Better we should have five-year calendars or life-calendars. Days? What difference does a day make in the larger order of things? Maybe months -- a good unit for planning a trip -- or quarters, the time it takes do create business results.
My little dog must think it queer to stop without a dollar near. Turn, turn, turn. To each his own season.
To everything turn turn turn
there is a season
turn turn turn and
a time to every purpose unto heaven
A time to be born a time to die
A time to plant a time to reap
A time to kill a time to heal
A time to laugh a time to weep
To everything
turn turn turn
there is a season
turn turn turn
and a time to every purpose unto heaven
A time to be loved a time to break up
A time to dance a time to morn
A time to cast away stones
a time to gather stones together
To everything
turn turn turn
there is a season
turn turn turn
and a time to every purpose unto heaven
A time of love a time of hate
A time of war a time of peace
A time you may embrace a time to refrain
from embracing
To everything
turn turn turn
there is a season
turn turn turn
and a time to every purpose unto heaven
A time to gain a time to lose
A time to rend a time to sew
A time for love a time for hate
A time for peace I swear it's not too late
.
Posted by Jay Cross at October 7, 2001 01:20 PM | TrackBack
