Stop Filling Time: Embrace Life’s Abundance
We’ve all been there. The calendar is packed, the to-do list keeps growing, and somehow we still feel like we’re not doing enough. We fill our days from morning until night, convinced that productivity equals a life well-lived.
But what if the secret to having more time isn’t about managing it better—it’s about creating it differently?
The Paradox of Busy
Here’s something curious: the busier we become, the less time we seem to have. Not because the hours disappear, but because we’ve trained ourselves to fill every available moment with something. Anything. Everything.
We schedule back-to-back meetings. We sign up for classes we never attend. We commit to projects that drain us. We scroll through apps to “relax” and wonder why we feel more exhausted.
The problem isn’t that we lack time. It’s that we’ve lost the ability to let time be.
What Does “Creating Time” Actually Mean?
Creating time isn’t about finding hidden hours in your day or becoming superhuman at multitasking. It’s about something more fundamental: recognizing that how you feel about your time matters more than what you fill it with.
Think about a moment when time felt just right. Maybe it was a Sunday morning with nowhere to rush. A conversation that flowed naturally without checking the clock. A project that absorbed you completely, where hours passed like minutes.
That feeling—that ease—is what happens when your time aligns with what truly matters to you.
The Things That Fill Our Days
Most of us pack our schedules with three types of activities:
Obligations we think we should do (but resent doing)
Distractions that numb us (but leave us feeling empty)
Genuine pursuits that enrich us (but somehow get squeezed out)
The last category—activities that bring happiness, gratification, purpose, and genuine connection—are what make time feel abundant. Yet they’re often the first things we sacrifice when life gets “busy.”
The Shift: From Filling Time to Creating It
Creating time starts with a simple but uncomfortable question: What if I stopped doing most of what I’m doing?
Not forever. Not all at once. But what if you paused and asked yourself which activities actually contribute to the life you want to live?
This isn’t about minimalism for its own sake. It’s about making space for what matters by removing what doesn’t.
When you clear away the obligations that drain you, the distractions that numb you, and the commitments you never truly chose, something remarkable happens: time expands. Not literally, of course—you still have 24 hours. But those hours feel different. Lighter. More spacious. More yours.
What Fills the Space You Create
Here’s what people often discover when they stop over-scheduling their lives:
Presence becomes possible. When you’re not rushing to the next thing, you can actually experience this thing.
Creativity returns. Boredom—that feeling we run from—is actually where new ideas emerge.
Relationships deepen. Connection requires unstructured time, the kind you can’t schedule in 30-minute blocks.
Purpose clarifies. When the noise quiets down, you can finally hear what matters to you.
Gratification becomes real. Instead of checking boxes, you experience genuine satisfaction from activities chosen deliberately.
This is the life that exists on the other side of busyness. Not emptiness, but fullness of the right kind.
The Permission You’ve Been Waiting For
You don’t need permission to create time, but I’ll offer it anyway: you’re allowed to do less.
You’re allowed to say no to opportunities that don’t align with who you’re becoming.
You’re allowed to have evenings with nothing planned.
You’re allowed to prioritize peace over productivity.
You’re allowed to choose enrichment over exhaustion.
The world will tell you that more is better, that busy equals important, that rest is something you earn after everything else is done. But those are stories, not truths.
Where To Start
Creating time doesn’t require a dramatic life overhaul. It starts with small, intentional choices:
Notice what drains you versus what energizes you. Pay attention this week. Which activities leave you feeling depleted? Which ones make you feel more alive?
Remove one thing. Just one. Pick something from your schedule that you do out of obligation rather than desire. What would happen if you stopped?
Protect emptiness. Schedule nothing for one evening this week. Let yourself be bored. See what emerges.
Choose deliberately. Before adding anything new to your calendar, ask: “Does this align with what I find enriching and meaningful?” If not, it’s a no.
The Invitation
This is just the beginning of understanding how to create time rather than constantly search for it. The principles run deeper than quick tips or productivity hacks—they touch on how we think about our lives, what we value, and who we want to become.
If this resonates with you, if you’re tired of feeling like there’s never enough time despite being constantly busy, there’s more to explore.
I’ve written a short booklet that goes deeper into these ideas: the psychology behind why we overfill our lives, the practical steps for creating space, and the transformation that happens when you align your time with your values. [Link to “How To Create Time” booklet coming soon]
For now, start with this: you have permission to want less chaos and more calm. You have permission to create time rather than just manage it.
The life you’re looking for isn’t on the other side of a busier schedule. It’s waiting in the spaces you’re afraid to leave empty.
What would your life look like if you stopped filling every moment? Leave a comment below—I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Response: Just for Today January 24
The NA program, like the AA program, has a daily reader of thoughts and ideas that bring us back to a sense of reality that much of what we’ve done has removed from our lives. That’s the thing, we don’t see it. We don’t realize it. You see, that is why these “diseases,” and I add quotes there in case there is opposition to that—this is my opinion only—overpower. We don’t realize we are doing most of the things we do. It’s also often the determining factor behind statements like “I have a problem,” “I can’t take this anymore,” “this needs to stop,” and others. The list is endless. What anyone says, reconciling that they are finally seeing that life is not what they are thinking and believing, is the key, and the hardest part. That’s what we call “a bottom.” Many times it needs to take enough pain, just enough of the negative taking over the positive, where there is a final hairline crack for hope to peek through. That’s when it happens.
In strengthening my connection to my world, as this day’s reading states, I don’t always stand in front of others, nor do I go to a store. It doesn’t mean buy something either. At its simplest, and again, this is only my personal experience and belief, it is thinking of someone else and connecting that way. Right now, my connections are limited. It is true, I am so stressed it’s beyond me. It is also true that feeling stressed and staying in stress is going to eventually kill me. Death doesn’t care how it happens as long as it does. Agony doesn’t give a damn if you get over it as long as it leaves a trace. And yes, I can go on. These things, they’re only being exactly what they are. They show up, they do what they do, and then go.
This may all seem very metaphysical, and it is. It is only because I’m not saying, you know, these feelings are like matter. I am now. Agony exists. Matter exists. It can’t be created. It can’t be destroyed. It can change, though. As it can’t be destroyd it changes in me. Why in me? I am carrying this. I am a material being. I can change phases just the same. If you wonder about becoming a liquid, look up liquid cremation. You’ll see there. My agony changes to relief, a breath that goes along with it, and then I go on. I carry that, instead. And so, as matter, it is possible, and as a feeling that I carry, that I experience, it is possible just the same because it’s in me.
As for Just for Today, my connections are strengthening as I think about the future. Thinking of the small things. Thinking about where she is and where I am, and it doesn’t matter because what I do is not about me at all. This will, naturally, as a sober woman, allow me to see where I am failing and where I am not adapting as best I can and know how. I’ll get to make a choice. Despair? I will naturally connect with my puppy and naturally go outside to get the mail when no one is around, so they don’t have to. I will naturally open my mother’s front door, say hello, and see them even if for a few minutes. I will pick up the phone and call to see what she is doing today. I will continue looking at the weather because she matters that much. I will continue listening, possibly sharing, connecting with statements, with readers, with anything and everything, but one way or another, connecting and getting outside of me.
I am not meant to implode. I am not meant to dwell on who and what I think I am. I am not the one who can measure me. That’s the deadly trap of thinking I know when I don’t. Know me, know you, know what you don’t know about you, and know that what you’re telling me is wrong. How? Do you see now? The disease? The lack of logic? The lack of emotion and feeling? Oh no, we feel, but we only get one half. We get sadness and not happiness. We get worry and not serenity. This may go against many opinions, and that is fine. We do not live in a world of duality, even though we sometimes do. No, we live in the grays. We live where everything is in the same place, shady, hazy, unclear, and difficult. That’s how we are not in duality. From there, we can choose to see better, see clearly, see something good, great, beautiful, or even love. I dare use that word. I dare to say that I would rather live in love than in disagreement with the things I truly want and experience indifference, apathy, hatred, or anything else that keeps me at war with myself, whatever your choice of words and philosophy may be. Mine is the opposite of that, so those things that give me peace, a smile, happiness, feel present, feel real, feel true, feel honest, useful to someone, like I’m giving them what they need, that they matter that much—something like love, give or take.
What does 200 days look like? Maybe 24 hours?
I wish I could remember what 200 days of sobriety looks like, feels like, or what I think about it. I know what I think about it— “That is a lot of days.” You see, when you’re drinking and using from the time you wake up until the time you go to sleep, 5 minutes of being “dry” is a lifetime, and what may feel like a few of those, too. I know that, not a whole 24 hours, but from the time I went to sleep to the time I woke up and decided I would do nothing, was a huge step. It was scary. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t have AA. I detoxed at home, not knowing that I shouldn’t do that, considering my level of daily intoxication. I can think back and say that everything got really slow. I got really slow. I did one thing at a time. And the entire time, well aware of what I was feeling and that I was feeling it. But my degree of “insanity,” as they call it in the rooms, helped a lot.
You see, I romanticized my addiction. It’s not that it was cool. It’s that it was my way of life. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a job; it’s that I was going to school, getting a degree, and living while using regardless. My use numbed a lot of ill feelings about myself. About the things I had done, what I had tried, what had failed, where I was, what I let go of, what I never tried, and so much more. I didn’t compare myself to people I went to school with; that would have hurt even more. They didn’t cross my mind, actually. I go back to middle and high school because my drinking and using “career” was long and extensive. I began very young, lied about it, made things seem fine to everyone around me, especially my family, but had nothing to show for it in my own life, except that I could do things for myself. I can pay my own bills, my own car; I can rent an apartment for someone and not live in it. I can pick up and move, save people from being on the streets, and so much more, all while I was destroying myself, my sanity, and everything else along the way.
I remember feeling my skin boil from the inside out. I don’t remember DT’s; maybe I had them, but I felt like I had ants inside of me, and it was not pleasant. I would take shower after shower, wash my hair, lie in bed, try to sleep, but not be able to sleep. I asked myself so many times what was happening, and scared out of my mind because I was taking medications, didn’t know how that would interact with the detoxing, but remembered why I did it. I was sitting at a friend’s dinner table when something came up, and I got up quite abruptly and said, “I have to go.” One of the girls came to my car, “I forgot my cigarettes.” “Here.” I left, and I did everything possible to disappear from that world. See, I can’t remember when it happened, not sure if simultaneously as I got up and said I had to leave, or right before, and it was the flash of a thought, but I looked at everything around me and said, “Is this really the life you want for yourself?” I thought to myself, “No.” And that set everything off. Something asked, something wanted to know, something cared, and I didn’t read into the question. It was so clear, so bland, objective, so “this is a yes or no question.” All I could do was tell the truth. It wasn’t about the people; it was barely about the things. I am not going to sit here and blame what I used as the culprit for jumping into my system and causing addiction. No. I did that all on my own. And so, I made the decision.
As for my romanticized ideas, they did help me. I romanticized my addiction. I also romanticized my detox. If you’re going to do it, live through it. Experience it. That’s what I would tell myself. That doesn’t mean put yourself in harm’s way. Your health needs to come first—detoxing is a health issue. But that’s what I did. I said okay, now I get to feel what I’ve seen. Yep, movies helped. They showed me what to do and what to expect in the process. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t “yay,” or “I’m here.” None of that. I think back, and I think nothing happens by mistake, no coincidences, so maybe it was for me to be able to do it and not get caught in some wildfire and burn to death in the process.
I can’t make sense of what 200 days felt like. I felt inadequate. I had many dreams. I no longer romanticized my life; all I did was compare, see how others had a life, and see how mine was in shambles. That’s, though, 200 days into Alcoholics Anonymous. That was me comparing and not seeing the similarities. That’s not what my sobriety looks like now. Two hundred days into the dry detox, though, were waking up early, doing yoga stretches, meditating, working, going to school, going to the studio to paint until 10 P.M. Then home, doing relaxation yoga, and meditating. Then sleep, wake up, repeat. My food intake included 2 sunny-side-up eggs in the morning, 1 slice of vegan cheese, and a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil. I rarely ate at work but had soy nuts for emergencies. Dinner was tofu, cabbage, white tuna, salmon, and water. I still had coffee for another week during detox. After a few days, I had to stop. The caffeine was too much. I smoked cigarettes. That was gone quickly, too. I felt everything. The smallest thing would strike up some kind of, not craving, but a horrible feeling of what it felt like when I was drunk and high. I didn’t like it. I was paranoid as all life. I never wanted to be there again. And that made me stop and live as methodically as I could.
That’s what a few hours was like. What two-hundred days looked like. What life looked like until February 28, 2004, around 7:30 P.M. That’s when the accident happened, and life changed. Today, it’s… It’s magic. Ask me why. That’s the best question anyone could ask me today. “Why?”
The Golden Key by Emmet Fox
I have compressed this essay into a few pages. Had it been possible I would have reduced it to as many lines. It is not intended to be an instructional treatise, but a practical recipe for getting out of trouble. Study and research are well in their own time and place, but no amount of either will get you out of a concrete difficulty. Nothing but practical work in your own consciousness will do that. The mistake made by many people, when things go wrong, is to skim through book after book, without getting anywhere. Read The Golden Key several times. Do exactly what it says, and if you are persistent enough you will overcome any difficulty. —Emmet Fox.
Scientific prayer will enable you to get yourself or anyone else, out of any difficulty. It is the golden key to harmony and happiness.
To those who have no acquaintance with the mightiest power in existence, this may appear to be a rash claim, but it needs only a fair trial to prove that, without a shadow of a doubt, it is just one. You need take no one’s word for it, and you should not. Simply try it for yourself.
God is omnipotent, and we are God’s image and likeness and have dominion over all things. This is the inspired teaching, and it is intended to be taken literally, at its face value. The ability to draw on this power is not the special prerogative of the mystic or the saint, as is so often supposed, or even the highly trained practitioner. Everyone has this ability. Whoever you are, wherever you may be, the golden key to harmony is in your hand now. This is because in scientific prayer it is God who works, and not you, and so your particular limitations or weaknesses are of no account in the process. You are only the channel through which the divine action takes place, and your treatment will be just the getting of yourself out of the way.
Beginners often get startling results the first time, for all that is essential is to have an open mind and sufficient faith to try the experiment. Apart from that, you may hold any views on religion, or none.
As for the actual method of working, like all fundamental things, it is simplicity itself. All you have to do is this: Stop thinking about the difficulty, whatever it is, and think about God instead. This is the complete rule, and if only you will do this, the trouble, whatever it is, will disappear. It makes no difference what kind of trouble it is. It may be a big thing or a little things: it may concern health, finance, a lawsuit, a quarrel, an accident, or anything else conceivable: but whatever it is, stop thinking about it and think of God instead—that is all you have to do. It could not be simpler, could it? God could scarcely have made it simpler, and yet it never fails to work when given a fair trial.
Do not try to form a picture of God, which is impossible. Work by rehearsing anything or everything that you know about God. God is wisdom, truth, inconceivable love. God is present everywhere, has infinite power, knows everything, and so on. It matters not how well you may think you understand these things: go over them repeatedly.
But you must stop thinking of the trouble, whatever it is. The rule is, to think about God. If you are thinking about your difficulty, you are not thinking about God. To be continually glancing over your shoulder in order to see how matters are progressing is fatal, because it is thinking of the trouble, and you must think of God and nothing else. Your object is to drive the thought of the difficulty out of your consciousness, for a few moments at least, substituting for it the thought of God. This is the crux of the whole thing. If you can become so absorbed in this consideration of the spiritual world that you forget for a while about the difficulty, you will find that you are safely and comfortably out of your difficulty—that your demonstration is made.
In order to “golden key” a troublesome person or a difficult situation, think, “Now I am going to ‘golden key’ John, or Mary, or that threatened danger”: then proceed to drive all thought of John, or Mary, or the danger out of your mind, replacing it with the thought of God.
By working in this way about a person, you are not seeking to influence his conduct in any way, except that you prevent him from injuring or annoying you, and you do him nothing but good. Thereafter, he is certain to be in some degree a better, wiser, and more spiritual person, just because you have “golden keyed” him. A pending lawsuit or other difficulty would probably fade out harmlessly without coming to a crisis, justice being done to all parties concerned.
If you find that you can do this very quickly, you may repeat the operation several times a day with intervals between. Be sure, however, each time you have done it, that you drop all thought of the matter until the next time. This is important.
We have said that the golden key is simple, and so it is, but of course it is not always easy to turn. If you are very frightened or worried, at first it may be difficult to get your thoughts away from material things. But by constantly repeating a statement of absolute Truth, such as: There is no power but God; I am the child of God, filled and surrounded by the perfect peace of God; God is love; God is guiding me now; or, perhaps best and simplest of all, God is with me—however mechanical or trite it may seem—you will soon find that the treatment has begun to “take.” And that your mind is clearing. Do not struggle violently; be quiet, but insistent. Each time you find your attention wandering, switch it back to God.
Do not try to think in advance what the solution to your difficulty will be. This is called “outlining” and will only delay the demonstration. Leave the question of ways and means to God. You want to get out of your difficulty that is sufficient. You do your half, and God will never fail to do God’s.
“Whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” Acts 2:21
Unlearning Contempt: A Midlife Perspective
You know that feeling when you catch yourself mid-judgment, that split second where your brain has already categorized someone or something before you’ve even taken a full breath? Yeah, I’m intimately familiar with that moment. At 40, I’ve spent enough years wrestling with my own tendency to jump to conclusions to know how seductive and dangerous contempt can be.
It wasn’t until my late thirties that I really started understanding how deeply contempt before investigation had shaped my worldview. Growing up, I’d learned to armor myself with quick assessments, sharp observations, and what I mistakenly believed was “intuition.” In reality, it was just a protective mechanism—a way to feel in control by quickly sorting the world into neat, manageable boxes labeled “good” and “bad.”
Take work environments, for instance. I remember how swiftly I’d size up new colleagues. That guy who always wore wrinkled shirts? Clearly disorganized and unprofessional. The woman who spoke softly in meetings? Obviously lacking confidence. These snap judgments said far more about my own insecurities than about the actual people around me.
The turning point came during a professional workshop where we discussed unconscious bias. The facilitator challenged us to pause—truly pause—before forming an opinion. It sounds simple, right? But for someone who’d built an entire career strategy around quick assessments, this was revolutionary. What if, instead of immediately categorizing, I got curious? What if I asked a question instead of constructing a narrative?
This shift wasn’t just professional. It permeated every aspect of my life. I started noticing how quickly I’d form opinions about everything: restaurants, neighborhoods, political movements, parenting styles. Each judgment was a wall, preventing genuine understanding.
Learning to suspend contempt doesn’t mean becoming naive or losing critical thinking. It’s about creating space—breathing room between observation and conclusion. It’s recognizing that every person, every situation, carries complexity far beyond our initial impression.
I’ve learned that contempt is often a shield. It protects us from vulnerability, from the uncomfortable work of truly understanding. When we look down on something or someone, we don’t have to engage, to empathize, to acknowledge our own limitations.
These days, I try to catch myself. When that familiar surge of judgment rises, I take a breath. I ask myself: What am I not seeing? What story might be underneath this surface-level observation? Sometimes the answer surprises me, revealing layers of humanity I would have missed in my previous, more dismissive approach.
This journey isn’t about perfection. It’s about practice. Some days, I’m more successful than others. But each moment of caught judgment is a small victory—a reminder that life is infinitely more interesting when we approach it with curiosity instead of contempt.
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