“So sorry, I’m running five minutes late.” I send the text, frantically gather my purse, and race out of class. 

I am late to dinner with one of my best friends, who I have been accidentally neglecting in my schedule. And our dinner is already truncated because I am simultaneously late for another meeting. I end this day exhausted, setting my alarm for an irreligious hour the next morning to finish the assignments I abandoned earlier as I tried to make it to every dinner and debate and meeting.

This panic of busyness is not constrained to one hectic day. I live my life bounded by arbitrary and desperate timelines. I know that I am not alone. Time is our currency at Yale, dolled out unbiasedly to every person, but I fear we are not spending it wisely, despite the depressing number of students increasingly interested in “finance.” For most students, Yale is a golden ticket in life, but the unique opportunities we have at Yale create a culture of chaotic hurry where what matters most in life is often entirely neglected. 

“Be there in five!” has become my mantra for breakfast plans, sent like a timer as I only begin to peel myself out of my blankets. Recently, I am late simply because I was lying in bed drifting in and out of consciousness while ignoring my problem set on the desk. My social guilt for being late is so dulled only one month into school, I show up late to everything.

“I just don’t have time.” WRONG. We always have time.

Let’s reframe the statement without the underlying panic of scarcity. Every single day gifts us, equally, 1,440 minutes. In one day, every heart will beat approximately 100,000 times. However, something has been flipped upside down in our economy of time at Yale. Priorities are rare and far between. We cram our Google Calendars so full because we believe, somewhere buried in our Pavlovian-trained brains which crave the sound of activity, that the true exchange rate between productivity and busyness is 1:1.

Going to church or sitting with friends when they are going through a hard day are not activities that are color coded in our calendars. They are inconveniences that have no apparent value in our Yale economy. Friends will always be there and church has no barrier to entry, so these important aspects of life are shoved to the end of our priority list for “when we are less busy.” We will worry about the scary questions of vulnerability and life later.

So, we are left with wandering, wondering and high-achieving students at Yale, whose eyes dance around the dining hall in the middle of conversation. We create students at Yale who are flaky and hold their priorities like juggling balls, never fully grasping them long enough to examine their core beliefs and values. Juggling does not allow a respite.

It’s too terrifying to admit: busyness does not equal productivity. Somehow these variables have become entirely, fallaciously, correlated. Not only is this a conflation of variables, such a mistake is an unproductive way to live life.

We weren’t designed to be constantly moving and striving. In John Mark Comer’s book, “The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry,” he writes about a study on how Seventh-day Adventists have a life expectancy 10 years above the average. Their secret? Sabbath. They stop the frantic pace of life one day every week.

If we do the math, taking one day off every week adds up to almost exactly 10 years of rest over a lifetime. Mathematically, this study proves that our bodies give us back, roughly, the time that we take for Sabbath in the long run.

In Christianity, the concept of Sabbath comes from the book of Genesis, when an omnipotent God rested after creating the universe. Why would a religion allude to a seeming weakness in a powerful God? Because, perhaps, rest is not weakness.

I am not arguing that students should not be striving to immerse themselves in novel activities at Yale, and I certainly am not in favor of complacency. A compelling solution? Joining one of the student groups designed to wrestle with faith. Yet, ironically, these are the same groups that lack urgency and an external appeal for many students because they are not competitive.

I wonder how many Yalies traverse campus with contemplative purpose despite the shakiness of college life. I wonder instead how many students are floating from finance club to debate group because their older friend’s cousin told them to join. I wonder how many students come to Yale with no inherent vision for life, not seeking to discover it even through their hyperactivity here. 

We bury the fears lurking at the back of our minds and decide instead to spend the afternoon stressing over our outfit for the night. We are scared to stop and look into ourselves. We are petrified of pausing in the middle of our frantic schedule because we fear having to reevaluate commitments or to ponder the larger questions of life. We are burnt out and hyperactive, but we do not want to reevaluate the investments of our time.

Stop. Think for five minutes before you resume your day. But certainly don’t be late for dinner with your best friend.

ABBY NISSLEY is a sophomore in Ezra Stiles College studying Global Affairs and Philosophy. She can be reached at abby.nissley@yale.edu.