Most people throw away tons of flowers after their wedding. She puts them back to work.

Picture this: you're downing your third espresso of the morning, frantically toggling between seventeen browser tabs, when your kid tugs on your sleeve and whispers, "Mom, look: there's a rainbow outside." Your mind comes to a standstill, and for a brief moment, life's priorities seem perfectly aligned as you let yourself be drawn to the window. Were you "productive" in this moment? Not in the modern sense, no. But in ancient Greece, wise elders would be proud of you.

While we furiously chase deadlines and optimize our days for "maximum efficiency," we lose something profound that the people of Ancient Greece understood intimately: all time is not considered equal. The Greeks distinguished between Chronos—the relentless tick of the clock, represented by the many alarms and calendar alerts that make up modern life—and Kairos. These rich, meaningful moments give life its emotional depth.

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Why your relationship to time is probably toxic

We've lost the plot on productivity. It's not our fault, necessarily. If your timeline is anything like mine, it's flooded with bullet journal inspiration, exploitative side hustles masquerading as "creative" outputs, and bros boasting about how they've "hacked" sleep, as if a person's worth can be measured by their output per hour. It's exhausting. And to be honest, a little weird.

The statistics are even more sobering. The World Health Organization reports that over 700,000 people died from overwork in 2016 alone. We are killing ourselves to reach an unachievable, unsustainable, inhumane ideal of "productivity," while simultaneously missing the moments that make life worth living. A cruel joke, surely?

Research shows that constant productivity isn't beneficial for us, with the risk of burnout doubling when employees work 60-hour workweeks, rather than the already inflated 40-hour work week. Hustle mentality has infested too many corners of our lives. Self-care has shifted from a priority to just another bullet point on our to-do lists. We feel guilty for resting, anxious during downtime, and put constant pressure on ourselves to be "productive." "Lazy" has become a dirty word.

Two types of time that change everything

For the Greeks, there was a different way. They had Chronos (represented in schedules, planning, and other concepts and descriptions that are used to describe robots, not humans), and Kairos.

Chronos transforms days into spreadsheets and precious lives into productivity metrics and LinkedIn posts. Its focus is quantitative, measurable, and indifferent to the very human desire for in-person experiences.

Personal calendar.Photo credit: Canva

However, Kairos, which translates into "the right or critical moment," is where the magic happens. It's described as a "qualitative time," moments where time seems to expand and a greater force—meaning—seeps in. In Greek mythology, Kairos was depicted as a beautiful youth with wings on his heels, running swiftly while a single lock of hair fell over his forehead. The symbolism was clear: these moments are fleeting, and once they pass, there's nothing left to grab onto.

Could you reflect on your most treasured memories? What arises? Was it the workday when you perfectly adhered to a Pomodoro timer? Or the spontaneous dinner with an old friend, when the conversation flowed like wine and time seemed to disappear? The latter is a "Kairos moment," or a moment when "time slows down or even stands still as we become acutely aware of the richness and depth of the experience."

Or as one philosopher puts it, "Chronos time management is obsessed with saving time. Kairos is about savoring it."

How to reclaim your relationship with time

The ancient Greeks understood what we've forgotten: both types of time are necessary for a whole life. Chronos provides much-needed structure, helping us meet commitments and enabling civilization to function. Without it, we couldn't coordinate with others or accomplish meaningful goals. But without Kairos to balance it, we lose our humanity and turn into machines—efficient, perhaps, but utterly empty.

Friends enjoying each others' company.Photo credit: Canva

The secret lies in learning to dance between them. Individuals who regularly experience Kairos moments tend to report higher life satisfaction, stronger relationships, and greater resilience. These are more than feel-good platitudes, but represent measurable benefits that stem from understanding the true nature of time.

Luckily, we can use Chronos strategically to create opportunities for Kairos moments:

• Schedule unstructured time. It seems ironic, but book calendar space for spontaneity. Embrace the paradox.
• Silence notifications during meals. Create protected spaces for presence.
• Choose depth over efficiency when someone needs you. Remember that not every moment calls for optimization or problem-solving.
• Practice "sacred pausing"—moments of intention when you opt for meaningful depth, at the cost of "efficiency." This practice is personal and can take many forms. It may mean truly listening instead of waiting to speak. Experiencing a sunset, watching intently as the warm, golden hues fade into blues, purples, and indigos. Tasting food, concentrating on flavors, sensations, and textures, rather than screens or even conversation. Choosing to spend time with loved ones. Feeling gratitude for being alive.

A radical act of resistance

In our hyperconnected world, Kairos offers resistance to the tyranny of the clock. It suggests that our lives exceed our accomplishments, our worth transcends our output, and life's most important experiences cannot be captured in productivity apps.

A sundial. Photo credit: Canva

So, the next time you find yourself mindlessly rushing from task to task, take a moment to pause. Look around. Notice small details, like the light streaming through the window, the chatter of neighbors nearby, the fact that you are alive and breathing and sharing this precious moment with billions of other humans on a spinning rock in space. Kairos is calling—inviting you to step out of the relentless march of measured time and into the eternal now, where real life resides.

Your to-do list can wait. But this moment won't come again. If you're open to hearing it, the wisdom of ancient Greeks is still alive, and they're willing to teach anyone willing to slow down and listen.