Time paradox in lockdown
It's strange how differently time passes when you no longer rush out of the house to the office in the morning, hold meetings, sit in the office, have lunch with colleagues, perhaps treat yourself to a beer in the evening or do some sport, and then rush home through the stream of commuters.
Now we stay at home and do everything from here. At first I thought: Yeah, no more commuting, that means so much more time! Think again. I don't have more time, but it's different. Formless, it passes by at breakneck speed and still seems to stand still, you run around, see only tasks everywhere that should be done, can't get yourself to do them, other things are more important at the moment. The days, formerly known as Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, have become indistinguishable and is it still March or are we already stranded in the next month?
The days formerly known as Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday have become indistinguishable and is it still March or are we already stranded in the next month?
I remember a book from my childhood. It was actually just the title: «Two Years' Holiday» was the name of the book, and I must have told my philosopher uncle all too enthusiastically about how great I thought it would be to have two years' holiday. He listened to me and then made this face as if he was looking for an answer somewhere at the back of his mind. Then he explained to me that we appreciated holidays so much, especially as a change to relax. But that it would be a completely different matter if there were only holidays and we had to create our own structures.
My children are pretty sympathetic to the prospect of taking the rest of the school year off their hands - it's not exactly a holiday, but they are allowed to pursue their education themselves until further notice, without lessons, attendance times and constant pressure. It's as if the crisis has pressed a stop button, everything is holding its breath, everything is only working on the back burner. And that's not all bad. There is also room for something new. Curiously, the hospitals are also noticing this, a doctor told me, there are currently fewer emergencies, including fewer heart attacks and strokes.
It is the perspective of the reporter who is intoxicated by the wind of great change. Provided you're not shitting yourself with fear.
And then there is another perspective. The idea that things will never be the same again, that so much will change, is also exciting. As a journalist, I want to see, understand, be there. It's the perspective of the reporter who is intoxicated by the wind of great change. Provided you're not shitting yourself with fear.
At some point, the worst will be over. Time will return to its old form and at some point we will realise that it is not the old form after all. It's a new one. I'm already looking forward to it.
This is the first of Michèle Binswanger's new lockdown mum blogs, in which she reports on her experiences working from home. From now on, the mum of two will be blogging twice a week - on Sundays and Thursdays. Her blog appears on www.tagesanzeiger.ch and www.fritzundfraenzi.ch.
Michéle Binswanger is a graduate philosopher, journalist, author and long-standing columnist for Fritz+Fränzi. She writes on social issues, is the mother of two children and lives in Basel.
Michèle Binswanger's diary at a glance:
- Zeiten-Paradox im Lockdown
- Ausgehungert nach Freunden
- Lockdown-Bilanz und eine Prise Optimismus
- Frühling und die Kunst, traurig zu sein
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