Time Shifting - Hardcover

Rechtschaffen, Stephan

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0385478496 ISBN 13: 9780385478496

Publisher: Doubleday, 1996

Synopsis

Do you ever feel so rushed that you can't stop to think?  That you don't have enough time to do your job well--or even to read this paragraph carefully?  That's because you spend your time either speeding forward or thinking about the past few minutes, without really concentrating on living in the present moment.

We all have the capacity to look at time--and, by doing so, to step into a new awareness of it and experience its next dimension, time freedom.  But we cannot just look with our eyes and understand with our mind, we must experience it with all the facets of our being; with all our senses, with our perceptions, our feelings, and our heart.  Timeshifting is the method for doing this, and how you can learn timeshifting is what this breakthrough book is about.

In Timeshifting, Stephan Rechtschaffen teaches us that time is subjective, not objective, and that we can take back control of our lives by changing the way we think about time.  We can relearn how to live our lives to their fullest potential; to have the time to enjoy ourselves, our families, and our jobs.  Timeshifting is not about time management; it won't teach you how to do more in a shorter period of time.  It will, however, give you back all the time you need to accomplish what you want, and you'll find that you are more relaxed, less stressed-out, and better able to enjoy the best things in life.


From the Trade Paperback edition.

About this title

About the Author

Stephan Rechtschaffen, M.D., brings more than twenty years' experience as a physician and leader of workshops on health and personal growth to Timeshifting.  He is a pioneer of the wellness movement and a founder of the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies in New York's Hudson River Valley, a world-renowned center for holistic study of health, culture, spirit, and the arts.  He lives in Rhinebeck, New York.


From the Trade Paperback edition.

From the Inside Flap

feel so rushed that you can't stop to think? That you don't have enough time to do your job well--or even to read this paragraph carefully? That's because you spend your time either speeding forward or thinking about the past few minutes, without really concentrating on living in the present moment.

We all have the capacity to look at time--and, by doing so, to step into a new awareness of it and experience its next dimension, time freedom. But we cannot just look with our eyes and understand with our mind, we must experience it with all the facets of our being; with all our senses, with our perceptions, our feelings, and our heart. Timeshifting is the method for doing this, and how you can learn timeshifting is what this breakthrough book is about.

In Timeshifting, Stephan Rechtschaffen teaches us that time is subjective, not objective, and that we can take back control of our lives by changing the way we think about t

Reviews

Citing applications ranging from the intensely private to the comprehensively social, Rechtschaffen, a founder of the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies in New York State, advocates a refocusing of our attention on the present. Describing the rushed and future-focused schedules characteristic of modern life as a condition of "time poverty," he suggests that active time awareness ("not time management") offers a path into a richer experience of daily life. From a philosophical position that owes much to Buddhism, the author offers concrete steps to taking back the power we have given to clocks and calendars. "Time shifting" requires two steps: becoming aware of the present and practicing "entrainment"-tuning in to the rhythm and flow of the moment. Rechtschaffen cites ritual as a powerful means of shifting rhythm, and suggests ways to incorporate time-shifting rituals into everyday existence. Nuggets of wisdom and of practical advice add texture to this overview, which concludes with a vision of a political "time movement" based on the ideas of such thinkers as Jeremy Rifkin, Joanna Macy and physician Larry Dossey. A valuable bibliography is included. First serial to New Woman; Literary Guild selection; foreign rights sold to 10 countries; author tour.
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Yet another book teaching busy Americans how to slow down and savor the moment. Rechtschaffen, a founder of the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies, offers a series of lessons in mindfulness. The busier we are, he advises, the more we need to take time off, practice random acts of purposeless fun, or listen to Mozart, rather than let ourselves be frantically driven through our precious existence by society's deadly time fixation. A pivotal concept for Rechtschaffen is that different moments and situations have their own distinct time rhythms. Time shifting is thus the art of adjusting (``entraining'') to the unique rhythm of each new event, so that we can truly experience it and be fully present in the moment. Rechtschaffen, who counts Thomas Moore, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Ram Dass among his spiritual teachers, offers a series of practical rituals to facilitate these shifts, including breathing exercises and meditation. In the second half of the book, Rechtschaffen applies these exercies to such areas as self-care, relationships, sports, health, the raising of children, and aging. He finds much to criticize about our distracted, workaholic society, and argues, drawing on his travels, that we need to pay greater attention to the very different approach to time found in many traditional societies. Few would dispute the truth of much of this. But as he reels off his this-is-how-it-is anecdotes and trite statements (``Paradise is where you are right now''; ``Relationships based on sex are bound to fail if we're bent on conquering the object of our love''), Rechtschaffen's facile, often preachy style reduces his truths to truisms. (First serial to New Woman magazine; Literary Guild Selection; author tour) -- Copyright ©1996, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Self

Dwell as near as possible to the channel in which your life flows.
--Henry David Thoreau

The trouble with those of us in the West is that we're always busy, always doing, always on the go.  True, we're alone a great deal of the time, but even when we're by ourselves we're busy.  Indeed, our society proclaims that being busy is a virtue, and we feel vaguely guilty when we're not.

There is a need for more time for solitude, a time for contemplation and meditation, when the mind is quiescent and feelings are at ease.  Getting to that time is one of the principal aims of timeshifting.

Yet we're afraid of solitude because we're afraid of the feelings that will rise before we can be at ease, afraid to confront who we are when stripped of our "doing" nature.  I'm a doctor, a father, a lecturer, always in one role or another--yet who am I without all of this?

And so, when we're alone, we straighten the house, pay the bills, cook the dinner, watch television, surround ourselves with the canned noise of a radio or Walkman; in effect, we are seeking companionship even when there is no other human being around.

There is a difference between being alone and being lonely.  When we're alone, we can be in any sort of mood, happy or sad, angry or calm; but loneliness invariably hurts--and so, quite naturally, we run from it.

How many times, for instance, have we entered someone's house when a television set is on although there is no one in the room watching it?  Why, when we're alone, do we talk aloud to ourselves or suddenly pick up the phone to call a friend?

We feel a need to be surrounded by people, by activity; to entrain with another's rhythm--anything but solitude, for that's where loneliness lurks.

I remember vividly a time when my life was full of emotional turmoil and I could not turn to family for solace since they were part of the problem.  I didn't turn to friends, either, because I did not want them to know there was a problem.

So I stayed by myself in a small cabin on the shore of a lake near the Omega property.  One morning, after a troubled sleep, I sat in a chair on the porch, looking at the still water, and was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of loneliness.  I was sure that nobody loved me or cared whether I lived or died, that I was naked, defenseless.  I was certain that nobody would ever visit me again.

My initial urge was to get out of the chair and do something-- anything--to relieve the pain.  But I forced myself to sit where I was and I opened myself up to the feeling.  My feeling of loneliness shifted to that of rage and then to sadness, all uncomfortable and painful.  I can still feel the enormous effort it took to stay with those feelings--and their profound effect.

I noticed an oak tree on the shore of the lake and focused my attention on it, all the while awash in feeling.  I remember thinking that the oak tree didn't seem lonely where it stood, it was just playing out its part in the world as an oak tree.  It seemed majestic, a beautiful solitary figure against the horizon.

Suddenly I felt myself like that oak, solitary, alone, simply being myself, with an immense feeling of freedom--I no longer felt lonely, merely alone.

I had reached the depth of my feeling, and when I did, it vanished.  I had merged with the rhythm of nature, with the almost motionless rhythm of the oak.

I could feel a shifting of time.

It was a profound experience, one I recall in those moments that again bring up the fear of being alone.  It has changed my relationship with simply being by myself, with whatever comes up, just being, without anything to do.


From time to time, all of us, like Garbo, "want to be alone."  What a relief, we think, to get away from the spouse and kids, or from work, or even from well-meaning friends, and have some time to ourselves.  How happy we are if we can take a solitary shower, shut ourselves in our workroom, stay indoors when the rest of the family is frolicking outside, eat a meal by ourselves, or go on a business trip and spend the night alone.  No noise.  No interruptions.  No obligations.  Peace: It's wonderful!

If we can somehow manage to find a long-term period of solitude, a strange thing happens: We get lonely or afraid, and we wish we were securely back with our family, or our friends, or our coworkers.  Their "sins" are forgotten (or at least forgiven); we actually miss them!

All of this is about our resistance to being in the present, for in the present we experience this emotional discomfort, and then we want to be busy in our common environs with others.  But we miss the present when we are with them, for they are the means of avoiding our discomfort.  Other people provide our escape.

A client named Joan tells me that when she retired, friends hoped "she'd be able to keep busy."  Indeed, so ingrained was the sentiment that when it turned out she was not busy, and that she was enjoying it, she felt anxious, as though she had somehow transgressed.

"You're going to feel bad if you're not busy," she was warned, and when she felt good she imagined there was something wrong with her.  She was responding to what she was "supposed" to feel, not her authentic feeling.  Society (and tradition, family, doctors, ministers, government) is always telling us what our response should be, and we are somehow queasy if our genuine response is something altogether different.

A tennis-loving friend quit his corporate job to go into business for himself.  He could structure his own hours, and he promised himself that when it was time for the U.S. Open, he would watch it all on television and do his work in the early mornings and late evenings.

At noon on the first day of last year's Open, he found himself suddenly jumping from his couch, overcome by guilt.  "I should be doing something else," he thought.  "I should be working."

He was laughing at himself when he told me the story.

"Would you have felt guilty if you had actually been at the matches," I asked him, "instead of just watching them on television?

He paused, considering.  "Absolutely not."

"When you listen to music at home, do you find you can sit through an entire symphony?"

"Rarely, if ever."

"But if you're at a concert?"

"No trouble at all.  A symphony and a concerto, with enormous pleasure."

It was, I told him, a matter of entrainment.  When he was alone, he was entrained with society's inculcated rhythm, and his guilt was society's reprimand for "wasting time."

But when he was at the tennis stadium or concert hall, he was entraining not only with the sport or the music, but also with the audience, all of whom (having paid their good money for the event) were "permitted" to enjoy themselves, and therefore so was he.

The same event.  The same "free" time.  Yet in one instance anxiety, in the other, pleasure.

Society allows us to go to a game or a concert with others, but frowns when we watch or listen by ourselves.

It is very important to give yourself time to be alone doing something you really like, no matter what anybody says.  It's okay to not take your kids to the ballgame, okay to not spend each evening with your spouse; okay to skip the family picnic, or to go left when everybody else insists you go right.  The point again is to achieve a balance.  It's your time.  Make sure you give it to yourself, and don't allow interruptions or other activities to take precedence.

Listening to music, taking a hike in nature, reading fiction or poetry, woodworking or quilting, or lying on a lawn in the evening looking at the stars are all activities we can do quietly and alone, as long as we remember to be "present," and not do them just to busy our hands or to escape feeling.  Many of us don't know what we like to do by ourselves because we haven't spent enough quiet time alone.  When we're alone, we get bored or restless.  So it's back to busyness as quickly as possible.

Why is it that time for ourselves is so low on our list of priorities?  I think it's because so many of us feel ourselves "unworthy" of this "indulgence"--and society agrees with us.  Our parents complain of our "loafing" when we're not engaged in an activity; our bosses scream at us when we stare into space; our spouses criticize us if we're "not there for them."

Where does that leave us when we're alone?  Feeling guilty.

Yet Thoreau has eloquently shown us how vital solitude is, and Rilke says, "A good marriage is that in which each appoints the other guardian of his solitude, and shows him this confidence, the greatest in his power to bestow."

"I need some space" is an argument often heard in domestic battles; I believe "I need some time" is just as valid, and in many ways less threatening.

Most of us don't know how to use time alone and run from solitude.  But care of the self is the groundwork for any relationship, and self-esteem comes not from others but from within.

Solitude takes practice.  It requires facing down loneliness and realizing that there is nothing more important you can do.  Far from being an "indulgence," quiet, solitary contemplation--"doing nothing&...

Edition details

• Publisher: Doubleday
• Publication date: 1996
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0385478496
• ISBN 13: 9780385478496
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 238