FOUR THOUSAND WEEKS by Oliver Burkeman
Do we really need another book about time management? Probably not, but this one stands out as it faces up to a starker reality by stating that, for we mere mortals, it is only by “consciously confronting the certainty of death [….] that we finally become truly present in our lives.”
Four thousand weeks refers to our allotted time on earth if we are fortunate enough to live to the age of 80. For many, the lifespan will be less, for some it will be more but for all of us it will be brief.
Oliver Burkeman doesn’t attempt to sweeten the pill and sums up existence with uncompromising bluntness: “Life is nothing but a succession of present moments, culminating in death.” Furthermore, he argues that, when push comes to shove, “what you do with your life doesn’t matter all that much.”
If this seems morbid and depressing, comfort can be drawn from the fact that he is not advocating that we give up en masse or submit to nihilism. His point is that to live authentically one must embrace limits and accept uncertainties rather than relying on false hopes and dreams or striving for unachievable perfection.
Above all, he cautions against the understandable temptation to try to cram as much experience and activity into this narrow time frame. His central argument is that, instead of seeking ways of doing everything, our time is better spent deciding what is less essential.
For the most part, haste simply makes waste or leads to what author Marilynne Robinson has called living with a “joyless urgency.” Burkeman correctly notes that “busyness becomes an emblem of prestige” and is more likely to lead to depression than any identifiable sense of fulfilment.
The author is a self-confessed productivity geek abeit one who now questions most of the advice he previously accepted uncritically. As a UK journalist for ‘The Guardian’ now based in Brooklyn, he sees the issues from both a British and American perspective. The former is more evident in his self deprecating writing style. He doesn’t set himself up as an infallible guru and admits that trial and error forms the basis for the bulk of his current theories.
His conclusion, a sound one in my view, is that we shouldn’t do things simply because they make us richer or more productive because “some things are worth doing for themselves alone.” The experience of living mindfully through the pandemic means that this conclusion will resonate even more widely than would have been the case three years ago.
In this regard, he is in tune with learning expert Eduardo Briceño who said in a Ted Talk : “What if, instead of spending our lives doing, doing, performing, performing, we spent more time asking, listening, experimenting, reflecting, striving and becoming.”
The final chapter of ‘Four Thousand Weeks’ offers tips for becoming and consists of “ten tools for embracing your finitude.” This check list strikes me as largely redundant as it is more akin to a conventional self-help handbook. The recommendations to set boundaries and focus on one project at a time offer nothing profound or original.
Burkeman is more atypical and enlightening when he proposes the benefits of planning for “strategic underachievement” and seems more convincingly true to himself with the final suggestion that one should learn to “practice doing nothing.” This reinforces the message that his excellent and thought provoking book contains more ideas for creative idlers than tools for ambitious titans.
