Hello from the time factory

Three recommended reads to unify your past, present, and future

I spent last week thinking about time. I was sent down this time rabbit hole after discovering an old college laptop. Amongst the decade old digital detritus, was a paper I wrote for a class called the Philosophy of Space and Time, in which I refuted J.M.E. McTaggart’s assertion that time is unreal. Reading this paper induced a strange dissonance. I could see myself in the paper, particularly in my punctuation choices and argumentation style; yet I also felt a strangeness as seemingly unreal as McTaggart’s relationship with time. 

So for this week’s Monday Mind Meld, I’m presenting three of my favorite pieces from the last week on Substack that made me feel connected to my past, present, and future selves. 

Representing the past is an essay by

Thomas J Bevan

, which launched me back to the parking lot of the Pensacola Civic Center, walking up the ramp with my Abuelo and brother to watch the Pensacola Ice Pilots.

Representing the present we have an essay by

Nat Eliason

that made me get up from my desk and run until my lungs and legs could take no more.

And, in my favorite piece of the week,

Alistair Kitchen

opened his mind to drop a bit of wisdom and vulnerability into my head–giving me a sense of euphoria as I felt future-me becoming a bit more of a person. 

Life in the Lower Leagues by

Thomas J Bevan

I encountered Thomas J Bevan’s writing thanks to Notes. I don’t remember exactly which Note it was that made me subscribe to his Substack,

The Commonplace

, but I do remember thinking that I liked his mixture of irreverence for rules and reverence for writing. 

Life in the Lower Leagues, which I’m recommending as our totem to the past, is a meditation on the joy, connection, and heartbreak that comes with supporting a lower league English football club. In Thomas’ case, the club in question is Walsall FC, a team in the 4th division of the English football pyramid. I am the odd American who didn’t actually need footnotes to understand the particular dynamics of English football, but I loved how this piece used footnoting as a way to universalize the particular, while also adding to both the humor and poignance of the overall narrative. 

Growing up in a small American city I didn’t have a Walsall FC to root for. The closest equivalent, I suppose, was a (now-defunct) minor league hockey team that moved to my hometown when I was 9. My Abuelo, a 60 something year old man from Cuba who had never watched hockey before, decided to get season tickets so that my brother and I would have a regular outing to attend with him. This essay brought me back into those joyful childhood memories.

I’m recommending that you give Thomas 10 minutes of your time because, whether you are a sports fan or not, I think this piece will take you into the warm and yet slightly uncomfortable stew of the past. 

You Have No Idea How Much Better You Can Feel by

Nat Eliason

I found Nat Eliason’s Substack late last year and immediately connected with a piece called De-Atomization is the Secret to Happiness. Nat’s writing is personal and specific, but the piece I’m recommending as our marker of the present, titled You Have No Idea How Much Better You Can Feel, is a perfect example of how one stranger’s specific experiences can open a window into your own specific experiences. 

Nat opens this post talking about two close friends that made the difficult decision to leave Austin, where Nat lives, due to the horrible allergies that the city inflicted upon them. Nat segues this anecdote into his own introspection on the present state of his world, before opening up the piece to challenge all of us to consider everything that is obscured when we tell ourselves “I feel fine.” 

I am a bit obsessive about my health and wellness, but this piece also made me realize all the ways in which my “I feel fine” was stopping me from being present with the actual state of my life. After finishing this post, I went out and ran as far and as fast as I could. When I got back to my door 56 minutes later I was exhausted, but also euphoric. 

I doubt you’ll read this essay and then go run yourself to exhaustion, but I bet that if you take 5 minutes out of your day to read this piece you’ll do something that makes you realize how much better you can actually feel. 

Becoming a Person by

Alistair Kitchen

I had somehow missed Alistair Kitchen’s writing until last week, when I read his essay Becoming a Person. I immediately read several of Alistair’s posts, and I especially loved Becoming a Person. This essay is a perfect example of why reading brings me so much meaning and joy, and why I spend so much time each week sifting through the writing here on Substack to try and find writers that make me feel more whole. 

As the piece unfolded, I felt myself dissolving into the world and connecting with a random stranger through language. I also felt hopeful and excited about my future, about the person I am becoming in each moment (and especially in the moments I am immersed in reading, writing, and in the world). 

I don’t think this piece needs any more hyping up. I just think you should stop what you’re doing and take 12 minutes to read Becoming a Person.

Now back to the time factory

Reading all three of the recommended essays will take you 27 minutes–which is about how long it took Joshua Cheptegei to run 10,000 meters at the Estadio de Atletismo del Turia on October 7, 2020. Unlike Joshua, you won’t get a world record next to your name for taking 27 minutes out of your day to read these three essays, but I do think you’ll feel a little more at peace with yourself–past, present, and future.