watching the clock
Earlier, I shared my journey learning Transcendental Meditation (TM) but left out a surprising tip: “Don’t set a timer,” my instructor advised. “It’ll snap you out of meditation. When you think twenty minutes have passed, check the clock. If you’re early, close your eyes and keep going.”
I balked at first. Skipping the alarm felt reckless. My Apple Watch buzzes all day to keep me on track—nothing worse than missing a Zoom with a client. But I’ve come to love TM’s gentler approach to time. Instead of being jolted out of meditation by a buzz, I "surface" naturally, usually glancing at the clock early once or twice, then again right near the end.
Recently, I started applying the same strategy to writing sessions. Goodbye Pomodoro timer always threatening to shatter my focus. Now, I write until it feels like it's time to stop. If I've gone for twenty or thirty minutes, great. If not, I keep going. This switch frees me to stay in the flow—I’m more productive and less anxious. In those rare moments of deep creative immersion, the last thing I want is an arbitrary alarm to derail me.
On The Tim Ferriss Show, British historian Andrew Roberts talked about staying in a zone while writing dense, complex books. He will even skip showers for days rather than risk breaking his mental flow. I may not go that far, but I see the need to maintain cognitive continuity. Now, I block out solid two-hour chunks for writing, taking breaks only when I need them, not on a schedule. Fewer interruptions, more momentum.
This all connects with something a friend mentioned: the idea of monochronic and polychronic mindsets. The monochronic see time as a fixed resource to be meticulously divided into appointments and tasks. The polychronic are deadline-agnostic, focusing on completing the work at hand regardless of the clock. They’ll be late to dinner or miss an appointment if they’re in the middle of something important.
I’ve always resented and admired this laissez-faire approach. The most successful creators seem to embody it, prioritizing their work over punctuality or rigid schedules. Meanwhile, I’m painfully punctual, always careful not to inconvenience other people. It’s a habit, maybe even a little people-pleasing. Top creators seem less bothered by the constraints of time—or, at least, other people’s expectations.
Of course, there’s a cost to prioritizing your own time above everyone else's. The real trick might be learning to shift modes: polychronic when creating, monochronic when collaborating. Time should be a tool, not a tyrant. The art lies in knowing when to hold it loosely—and when to rein it in.