Review of Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman
Oliver Burkeman admits that he used to pursue productivity, much as many other people have. He bought into the life hacks, tips, and techniques that would help him accomplish more and more and more. In fact, those tricks would help him accomplish everything he needed (or wanted) to accomplish, they promised. Of course, they let him down, as the do all of us. The problem, though, isn’t with the techniques themselves; the problem is with the problem they’re trying to solve. The reality is, as Burkeman argues, we will never accomplish all we want because time (and, thus, life) is finite, but we do our best to ignore that reality. One of the main ways we ignore that reality is through pursuing productivity.
What we’re ultimately ignoring, of course, is our mortality. Burkeman, though, argues that the only way to truly be happy in life is by admitting that mortality and coming to grips with the limitations it puts on us. He reminds us that we get, if we’re lucky, four thousand weeks of life, a number which feels painfully and unjustly small. However, he contends that it is that very limitation that gives any meaning to our lives at all. As an Existentialist thinker might argue, it is our choices within that reality that define who we are, or, for Burkeman, how we live meaningful lives.
Oliver Burkeman admits that he used to pursue productivity, much as many other people have. He bought into the life hacks, tips, and techniques that would help him accomplish more and more and more. In fact, those tricks would help him accomplish everything he needed (or wanted) to accomplish, they promised. Of course, they let him down, as the do all of us. The problem, though, isn’t with the techniques themselves; the problem is with the problem they’re trying to solve. The reality is, as Burkeman argues, we will never accomplish all we want because time (and, thus, life) is finite, but we do our best to ignore that reality. One of the main ways we ignore that reality is through pursuing productivity.
What we’re ultimately ignoring, of course, is our mortality. Burkeman, though, argues that the only way to truly be happy in life is by admitting that mortality and coming to grips with the limitations it puts on us. He reminds us that we get, if we’re lucky, four thousand weeks of life, a number which feels painfully and unjustly small. However, he contends that it is that very limitation that gives any meaning to our lives at all. As an Existentialist thinker might argue, it is our choices within that reality that define who we are, or, for Burkeman, how we live meaningful lives.
He critiques our culture’s focus on convenience in a couple of ways. First, convenience promises that, if we are just able to get rid of the troublesome tasks in our lives—or at least minimize them to almost nothing—we’ll then have all the time to spend on what we really want. History shows the fallacy in that argument, as technological advances have supposedly saved us enough time that we should have almost nothing but leisure in our lives, yet we continue to complain that we don’t have enough time. Second, Burkeman reminds us that the moments of friction in our lives are often where we find much of our meaning. Because we have to go to the post office to mail something that can’t be delivered any other way, we have an interaction with a person in line or working there that we would never have had, and it might change our life or at least the way we view the world.
Given the reality of the finite nature of our lives, he spends time talking about how we then make decisions as to what’s important. He also reminds readers (or teaches them for the first time) that decide comes from the same root as words, such as fratricide or homicide, as making a decision involves cutting off (or killing) other options. He relates a story—possibly apocraphyl—about Warren Buffet’s answer to a pilot who asked him how to set priorities. Buffet supposedly told him to make a list of the top twenty-five things he wants out of life in order of importance. Buffet tells him to focus on the top five, and so far the story follows a traditional path. However, Buffet then encourages him to ignore the other twenty, as those are the ones that will distract from those top five and keep him from actually achieving them. In other words, Burkeman constantly reminds the reader that we only have so much time and that we should spend that time on what really matters, as far as we are able.
Not surprisingly, given the age we live in, Burkeman talks about distraction. However, he goes beyond digital distraction to talk about distraction on much more important level. Ultimately, he tells the reader that “when you pay attention to something you don’t especially value, it’s not an exaggeration to say that you’re paying with your life.” Comments like that sting because they contain a level of truth we often ignore, which is Burkeman’s main point. He’s not judgmental in talking about this reality, as he admits he has wasted time, as well (as have we all), but he differs from most of us in that he’s honest about what it means to waste time. Ultimately, he says that the reason we should pay attention to distraction is because “what you pay attention to will define, for you, what reality is.” It is what makes our lives what they are.
Behind much of what he discusses is the idea of control. The reason we worry about how we’re spending our time is want to control time and our futures and our lives. Not only do we fail to truly admit our finite number of weeks, we also are unable to admit we can’t control anything about the future. We’re not guaranteed any time (any number of weeks) because we have no idea what tomorrow holds, an idea that we often dismiss as a cliché, but that’s because we don’t want to admit it’s true. Plans are simply intentions we create in that moment, but they’re nothing more than that because they can’t be anything more than that. We worry because we want that control, “in other words, ... the internal demand to know, in advance, that things will turn out fine: that your partner won’tleave you, that you will have sufficient money to retire, that a pandemic won’t claim the lives of anyone you love, that your favored candidate will win the next election, that you can get through your to-do list by the end of Friday afternoon.” Worry is simply one more aspect of our focus on productivity.
He suggests two ways to deal with the realities he spends much of the book laying out. The first is to develop patience, as it is truly counter-cultural in our society. He tells the story of an art professor who give her students an assignment where they sit and look at a work of art (of their choosing) for three hours. Burkeman takes on this task himself, and he finds a dramatic shift after eighty minutes, in which he becomes more intrigued by the work and goes deeper into it. Time shifts for him, as well, which means that life shifts for him. If we can use that same type of approach with what we do in our day-to-day existence, we can, in a sense, slow down our lives. We won’t live longer lives, but we will live richer ones. He quotes a question from James Hollis, who asks, “Does this choice diminish me, or enlarge me?” If we ask ourselves that question for important decisions, we might live differently.
He also comes back to control. We should admit that we don’t have it and stop behaving as if we can control much of anything. Instead, focus on what we can control (such as our patience) and enjoy the moments we can create. This approach sounds like an inspirational poster—enjoy the present—but the groundwork he has laid throughout the book changes the way we view such an idea. It’s not a pollyannish denial of our mortality, but a clear embracing of it. It's not an abdication of responsibility, but a full acceptance of it. We can choose to react to the reality of our finite lives by embracing those limits and working within them. We can give up the idea that we can accomplish everything (or even most of) what we want, which frees us to do the few things we can, while fully enjoying them.
Perhaps it’s because I’m more than than 2700 weeks into the 4000 I might have, but I found his argument and ideas compelling and interesting, even when I disagreed with him (he gives chance more credit than I do, but perhaps I’m disagreeing just because I want to hold on to some of that control). I had been waiting to read this book for months when I finally got a copy, and it lived up to the expectations I had for it. Anybody who wants to think about the way they view their mortality, productivity, career, or life should give it a read.
Given the reality of the finite nature of our lives, he spends time talking about how we then make decisions as to what’s important. He also reminds readers (or teaches them for the first time) that decide comes from the same root as words, such as fratricide or homicide, as making a decision involves cutting off (or killing) other options. He relates a story—possibly apocraphyl—about Warren Buffet’s answer to a pilot who asked him how to set priorities. Buffet supposedly told him to make a list of the top twenty-five things he wants out of life in order of importance. Buffet tells him to focus on the top five, and so far the story follows a traditional path. However, Buffet then encourages him to ignore the other twenty, as those are the ones that will distract from those top five and keep him from actually achieving them. In other words, Burkeman constantly reminds the reader that we only have so much time and that we should spend that time on what really matters, as far as we are able.
Not surprisingly, given the age we live in, Burkeman talks about distraction. However, he goes beyond digital distraction to talk about distraction on much more important level. Ultimately, he tells the reader that “when you pay attention to something you don’t especially value, it’s not an exaggeration to say that you’re paying with your life.” Comments like that sting because they contain a level of truth we often ignore, which is Burkeman’s main point. He’s not judgmental in talking about this reality, as he admits he has wasted time, as well (as have we all), but he differs from most of us in that he’s honest about what it means to waste time. Ultimately, he says that the reason we should pay attention to distraction is because “what you pay attention to will define, for you, what reality is.” It is what makes our lives what they are.
Behind much of what he discusses is the idea of control. The reason we worry about how we’re spending our time is want to control time and our futures and our lives. Not only do we fail to truly admit our finite number of weeks, we also are unable to admit we can’t control anything about the future. We’re not guaranteed any time (any number of weeks) because we have no idea what tomorrow holds, an idea that we often dismiss as a cliché, but that’s because we don’t want to admit it’s true. Plans are simply intentions we create in that moment, but they’re nothing more than that because they can’t be anything more than that. We worry because we want that control, “in other words, ... the internal demand to know, in advance, that things will turn out fine: that your partner won’tleave you, that you will have sufficient money to retire, that a pandemic won’t claim the lives of anyone you love, that your favored candidate will win the next election, that you can get through your to-do list by the end of Friday afternoon.” Worry is simply one more aspect of our focus on productivity.
He suggests two ways to deal with the realities he spends much of the book laying out. The first is to develop patience, as it is truly counter-cultural in our society. He tells the story of an art professor who give her students an assignment where they sit and look at a work of art (of their choosing) for three hours. Burkeman takes on this task himself, and he finds a dramatic shift after eighty minutes, in which he becomes more intrigued by the work and goes deeper into it. Time shifts for him, as well, which means that life shifts for him. If we can use that same type of approach with what we do in our day-to-day existence, we can, in a sense, slow down our lives. We won’t live longer lives, but we will live richer ones. He quotes a question from James Hollis, who asks, “Does this choice diminish me, or enlarge me?” If we ask ourselves that question for important decisions, we might live differently.
He also comes back to control. We should admit that we don’t have it and stop behaving as if we can control much of anything. Instead, focus on what we can control (such as our patience) and enjoy the moments we can create. This approach sounds like an inspirational poster—enjoy the present—but the groundwork he has laid throughout the book changes the way we view such an idea. It’s not a pollyannish denial of our mortality, but a clear embracing of it. It's not an abdication of responsibility, but a full acceptance of it. We can choose to react to the reality of our finite lives by embracing those limits and working within them. We can give up the idea that we can accomplish everything (or even most of) what we want, which frees us to do the few things we can, while fully enjoying them.
Perhaps it’s because I’m more than than 2700 weeks into the 4000 I might have, but I found his argument and ideas compelling and interesting, even when I disagreed with him (he gives chance more credit than I do, but perhaps I’m disagreeing just because I want to hold on to some of that control). I had been waiting to read this book for months when I finally got a copy, and it lived up to the expectations I had for it. Anybody who wants to think about the way they view their mortality, productivity, career, or life should give it a read.