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VISUAL
JSON
TITLE
I Think the Clock Is Broken
AUTHOR
SITE NAME
DATE
Christopher Rivas
Tricycle: The
Buddhist Review
Sat Feb 15 2025
CATEGORIES
Spirituality, Religion & Spirituality
TEXT
You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are
ever flowing on to you. Heraclitus (c. 540 480 BCE)
–
–
Sixteen years. Sixteen years of sitting in meditation, and I still think
the clock is broken.
I set the timer, whichever little ticking tool that I use to guide my
practice. I sit down, settle in, close my eyes, get still, and
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“
inevitably, at some point, a thought barges in: The timer must be
broken, or the clock must have died, or did I forget to set the
alarm, there s no way it hasn t been thirty minutes already. I ve
” “
’
” “
’
”’
heard that voice hundreds of times. Maybe thousands. And every
once in a while, even though I know I set the timer right, I break, I
give in and crack an eye open to check, only to see the seconds
slipping by exactly as they should. Then, just moments after I close
—
my eyes again, the alarm rings right on time.
But why? After all these years of practice, why does the thought of
sitting still without a specific end make me so uncomfortable? Am I
afraid I might never get up? Am I afraid I will miss some life if the
’
alarm doesn t ring? Is this time anxiety, or simply general anxiety
anxiety?
When I first started sitting, two minutes felt like an eternity. I
couldn t sit still. I d fidget, I d shift, I d itch for distraction. Anything
’
’
’
’
to keep me from facing the moment. Then, two was quite simple,
so I pushed the timer to five minutes. Again, five was easy and also
not long enough, I craved more, so I pushed the time to ten. Slowly,
I built up my endurance. The discomfort at each wall kept
softening. Now, on my best days, I can sit for an hour. But the doubt
and the impulse to check the clock, it s still there, just below the
’
surface, waiting for the perfect moment to pull me away from the
moment.
’
’
This isn t just about checking the timer. It s about something
deeper. It s about control. It s about the mind s relentless need to
’
’
’
feel in charge, to know what’s coming, to anticipate the next move.
It’s about my fear of letting go, of sitting longer than planned, of
not knowing when things will end.
’
There s a Buddhist story about a group of monks who would sit for
meditation every morning and evening, guided by the sound of a
bell. One day, the bell broke, but the teacher didn t tell them. So
’
the monks sat, and they sat, and they sat waiting for the bell to
ring. Minutes passed. Then hours. Days. Still no bell. Some monks
became anxious, others frustrated, some angry, and some sat in
peace. After several days, the teacher explained that the bell was
never the point. The point was to let go of the idea that meditation
begins or ends at a certain time.
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—
—’
I think about that story often. The bell the timer it s not the
point. The clock isn t the practice. But I still get stuck in that
mindset: If the bell doesn t ring, did the session even happen?
’
’
’
And that s the crux of the issue. The clock, in a way, represents
everything we re trained to believe about time. We live in a world
’
where time is currency. Time is something to be spent, saved,
invested, and maximized. Every minute is a potential for profit, or
’
worse, a potential for loss. This isn t just how we think about work;
it s how we think about our lives. We re taught to fill every moment
’
’
with productivity, back to back, to chase the next task, the next
goal, the next achievement. We measure our worth by how well we
’
use our time, by how much we can do in a day. It s a cycle that
feeds itself. If I m not doing something, am I wasting time? If I m
’
not maximizing my minutes, am I losing my value?
’
’
We re so concerned with how much time has passed or how much
time is left that we forget to actually live in the time we have.
’
This mindset follows us into everything we do. It s in the way we
plan our days, the way we relate to our phones, the way we
structure our lives. And it slips into my sitting practice too. When I
’
’
’
’
sit, I m often not just sitting. I m timing myself. I m measuring my
progress. I m setting a clock. I m treating it like a task with a start
’
…
and end time; thirty minutes, forty The moment I check the clock,
I ve stepped into the realm of measurement and control.
’
—
This view of time turns meditation something that should be
about being into doing into a task. A box to check. A goal to reach.
—
Sit for thirty minutes, check. On to the next thing. Meditation
becomes just another item on the to-do list, a thing to get done so I
can feel good about my day. It stops being a practice and starts
being another chore.
’
But isn t the point of the cushion to be able to get off the cushion? I
might be able to hit one thousand free throws in a row, but if I can t
’
’
do it in a game-time situation, what s the point? When my motherin-law is in town, or when I get cut off in traffic that s when I need
my practice. When the sink is full of dishes. What s the point of
’
— ’
’
sitting for an hour if I can t forgive my partner for finishing all the
almond milk?
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The Buddha talks about how suffering arises from our attachment
to impermanent things. Time, like everything else, is impermanent.
But in a culture that s so obsessed with productivity and
’
’
—
achievement, we ve made time into a commodity something to
possess, something to control. And the more we try to control it,
the more it controls us. My therapist tells me that anxiety is harping
on the future and depression is harping on the past. It s always
”
“’
“
’
gonna be hard, he says, when we grasp for a time that isn t this
one.
”
’
There s another story from the Zen tradition I love about a man who
was given a priceless jewel by his teacher. He carried it with him
everywhere, but he was always worried about losing it. He would
check his pockets constantly, making sure it was still there. The
’
fear of losing the jewel became so overwhelming that he couldn t
enjoy anything. Eventually, he returned the jewel to his teacher,
realizing that the worry of losing it was worse than not having it at
all.
Or the real-world, right-now version of this: My buddy bought a
very nice brand-new car. He loved this car, obsessed about it, over
’
it, so much so that he couldn t sleep at night because he was
worried something would happen to it. One sleepless night, he
’
couldn t take it anymore, so he went outside in his underwear and
kicked the car as hard as he could and went inside and passed out.
’
He stopped worrying about a time and a thing that didn t exist, he
gave up looking to see if the clock worked or didn t work, and he
“
arrived.
”
’
’
That jewel is like my buddy s car, is like time, is like anything we
can t let go of. We hold on so tightly, afraid of wasting it, or losing
it, afraid of not using it well, afraid of its slipping away, afraid,
’
…
afraid And in that tight grasp, we lose the ability to truly
experience it. To rest in it. We re so concerned with how much time
’
has passed or how much time is left that we forget to actually live
in the time we have. When I put the clock first in my meditation
practice, I m seeing if I ve measured up to some internal standard
’
’
of success. Did I sit long enough? Did I achieve something? And in
doing so, I miss the point entirely. Meditation isn t about achieving
’
’
’
something. It s about letting go of many things. It s about arriving
over and over again. Meeting the moment in the only moment
where there is breath, now.
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’
The timer doesn t matter. What matters is the practice itself, one
not constrained to a clock, or a certain room. The practice can
come anywhere with us, is everywhere with us, and is not bound by
time. What matters is the willingness to face the discomfort, to
watch the thoughts, to feel the fidgeting, the need to measure, to
control, to achieve, and to stay with it.
What matters is letting go of the heavy whisper of more, more,
more.
In a world that tells us we should always be doing more, sitting still
can be an act of rebellion, the ultimate rejection of a culture that
tells us our value is tied to our productivity.
’
So I sit. I breathe. I remind myself: The clock is fine. And even if it s
not, that s fine too. I have arrived.
’
Christopher Rivas is an actor, author, and storyteller best known for
his on-screen work on the Fox series Call Me Kat. He hosts two
’
podcasts on SiriusXM s Stitcher: Rubirosa and Brown Enough. He is
a PhD candidate in Expressive Arts for Global Health &
Peacebuilding at the European Graduate School and a Rothschild
Social Impact fellow.
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article
HUMAN LANGUAGE
en
SITE NAME
Tricycle: The Buddhist Review
PUBLISHER COUNTRY
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