Collecting the In-Between Moments
December 10, 2024 | By Emma Ventresca BF ‘26
image description: hourglass with book
As a college student, living in a city means lots of walking. Traversing campus from dorm room to class, from class to meals, from meals to activities, and from activities back to home base can become monotonous, exhausting, and time-consuming. If we walk 15,000 steps a day, this equates to about 142 city blocks. Assuming there are traffic lights at each intersection, that amounts to about an hour just spent waiting to cross the road. Indeed, we could have that 25th hour in the day if there were no cars to interfere with our dashing from place to place. These “in-between” times of life can stack up.
On Yale’s campus, we often seek to get rid of these “in-between'' moments at the micro level. After all, nixing them allows us to live efficiently and make more time for the activities we love. To some, this may look like pressing the snooze button to have a few extra minutes of quiet before sprinting to class. To others, it may look like the masterful multitasking of calling a parent while texting a friend while eating a boxed dinner while reviewing a problem set. I would be surprised to talk to someone at Yale who has not experienced this, but should we prize these moments as the pinnacle of time management?
Managing our time properly begins with embracing the “in-between” moments, sewing together the periods of monotony into a tapestry of active waiting. The theory that we can erase these “in-between” moments on the day-to-day micro level does not translate to the practicality of life on the macro level. It is impossible for humans to ax the intermediate periods that separate the big milestones of life like marriage or a job transition. From healing broken bones to having a child, waiting is built into our biology. The question is how individuals use the time in the interim. For these larger life events, there is obviously a serious degree of preparation that constitutes active waiting. Parents must set up a nursery in expectation of a new child; college seniors wait to hear back from job interviews that could have life-changing results. But for smaller events, it can be difficult to understand how this “active waiting” applies. Standing at a stoplight for thirty seconds will most likely not lead to a great revelation or transformative event. Nonetheless, weaving together the many small “in-between” moments of life—possibly summing to more than an hour a day—can help orient our lives. In other words, stringing together a few moments of solitude, reflection, or gratitude can cultivate our souls. If we truly listen, it is in the quiet moments, regardless of how brief, that we find direction.
What does it mean to yield ourselves to the waiting periods? In a recent New York Times article, Melissa Kirsch presents rest as the key. In “How to Rest,” Kirsch presents the concept of the “lie-down” [1]. A lie-down is a flexible kind of rest that could include a short nap, contemplative thoughts, or reading. There is great beauty in scheduling time for rest, acknowledging the frailty of the human body as it struggles against time’s inevitability. Most importantly, a “lie-down” is intentional, just as calling a grandparent or sketching could be as we wait in line to enter a dining hall. Taking time to retreat from the world can refresh the human body and spirit, allowing it to reorient itself and enter back into life recharged.
While active waiting does imply consistent intentionality with our time, this does not equate to constant busyness. An action need not be efficient in the eyes of the world to be good or beautiful.
Imagine if we reframed efficiency as accomplishing all that which is good for the soul, not just all that which is good for success. Work and studies would take on a different tone, and time for friends and physical activity would be priceless. This kind of efficiency has a universal effect on the human body; that which is good for one part enriches the whole and creates a positive feedback loop.
In a world that adopts this definition of efficiency, acknowledgement of the natural beauty of the day or a quick prayer are more productive acts than responding to a work email at a thirty-second stoplight. When we choose to use time for the soul amidst the monotony of daily life, we choose something greater than ourselves. Resting in the small moments disposes us to ponder higher questions—the nature of happiness, beauty, goodness—that are so often trampled by busy calendars. The head-fake: we need not philosophize for hours on end to glean a few kernels of wisdom. Our daily commutes and the long lines at the checkout are the starting points for gratitude, hope, and renewal.
Efficiency that prioritizes that which is good for the soul transforms the mundane into the supernatural through a keen awareness of the importance of collecting small moments of active waiting. The trade-off should be simple; the couple of minutes we spend waiting for a friend in the dining hall can become a restorative time in our day if we opt to take a deep breath instead of scroll through the news.
When we see the “in-between” moments of our day as tools to get ahead of our busy schedules, we sometimes fail to pay attention to our interior lives. We find ourselves stretched too thin, choosing between accomplishing the most in the smallest amount of time and working toward revitalizing the entire human person—body, mind, and spirit. In the Gospels, Jesus does not “rush through” His interactions. He both shares meals with His disciples and retreats to prayer. He not only heals the physical ailments of the meek and lowly but also attends to their interior wounds. Jesus lives with the totality of the human person in mind, allowing Him to spend time in conversation with the disciples and fellowship with the outcasts.
Our days may always be busy, but pockets of “in-between” time can become bedrocks of peace. A day can seem full instead of long when we are intentional–understanding the necessity of order and discipline in our rest time. St. Paul, a Christian missionary in the first century A.D., writes in his letter to the Corinthians that “all things should be done decently and in order.” [2] Planning ahead versus desiring to squeeze the most out of every second shifts our definition of efficiency. Rather than making a habit out of running into our 9ams after an all-nighter and two cups of coffee, maybe we can strive to order our lives such that we can walk into our Monday schedule refreshed, well-nourished, and ready to actively engage with the tasks before us. Our definition of efficiency should not seek to maximize utility; it should maximize meaning. We should strive to squeeze every drop out of the day, not through mindless multitasking and rushing to make ends meet but through making the “in-between” times more purposeful.
Ascribing a greater significance to our “waiting” time each day works for our good as well as for the glory of God. In the Christian tradition, numerous men and women have provided examples of life lived to the fullest. Those who have lived exemplary lives are canonized as saints and regarded as sources of wisdom. St. Irenaeus of the early Church stated, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” Being “fully alive” does not look like packing quantity into a day for the sake of it, nor does it look like waiting for the next big thing. Mentally jumping from one big event to the next, cataloging our assignments and meetings, only embeds us deeper into the “rat race.” The “in-between” tasks of our days—working out, sharing a meal with a friend, calling family—that do not seem as “important” as an upcoming exam begin to take a backseat, and we slowly lose sight of the fullness of life. Our tunnel vision can steamroll our brief pauses in the day that should be dedicated to our health. We fail to seek the joys in daily life when we wait for one thing “to finally be over” since the next pops up shortly thereafter. Think about the previous example with the stoplights. With almost complete certainty, we know that the light will switch from red to green within a minute or two. But we can never quite pin down when our lives will dip into a lull or swing into action. Existence is not just about the big events on our calendars; it is about the fullness of the human experience. Being “fully alive” harkens back to Jesus’ own model of consistently embracing the totality of humanity—body, mind, and spirit.
This does not mean that we cannot look forward to momentous occasions; it means that we do not allow them to define the source of our joy and hope. As a Christian, then, this fullness is intertwined with a relationship with the living God. We are to draw from the source of all goodness, which is Christ, in periods of waiting–whether they are short half-hour commutes or seasons of life where we are just trying to push from one thing to the next. As St. Augustine says, “Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they rest in you.” [3] Part of being fully alive—even in the downtime—is engaging with our innermost selves. Through prayer and reflection, we can find peace and security that endures through all seasons of life.
So how can we learn from the in-between times on the microscopic level when we face longer periods of waiting? Thirty seconds at a light may be just the right amount of time to take a deep breath, look up at the sky, and admire the sunset as I often do from the corner of Prospect and Grove. But mapping out a life transition may require more thought and planning. Just as we take the “in-between” seconds and minutes as blessings to pause and enrich our beings, so too should we look at transitional periods in this light. Moving to a new city or state can be daunting, separating an individual from routine and community. If this in-between period is not taken seriously, mindless internet scrolling, unfulfilling social interactions, and a lack of initiative to work efficiently for the soul may manifest. On our campus, students scour SingleYalies, perhaps rushing along the process of finding their perfect match rather than embracing singleness in the present moment. Though shifting residences, responsibilities, and relationships can surely take a toll, let us place patience and prayer at the forefront, spending our time intentionally to build connections with others rather than turning in on ourselves. When we remember to prioritize what is good for the soul above simply what we can do in a given amount of time, we remember to look up at God’s creation rather than stress over every detail. We loosen our grip on the world spinning around us and allow ourselves to embrace whatever the present moment brings. The waiting will not always be easy—we each have crosses to bear—but it can always be intentional.
[1] Kirsch, Melissa. “How to Rest.” Essay. In The Morning. New York, NY: The New York Times, February 17, 2024.
[2] Cor. 14:40.
[3] Augustine, Confessions, 1.1.1.