They say Wall Street never sleeps, but that’s not entirely true. A more accurate idiom is,
“Wall Street never rests.” Some people sleep. As a contract negotiator, I slept more than my investment bankers. I was rarely in the office past 10pm. Yet my mind was always in the office. Inbox management was a religious ritual. Hands folded around my phone at fixed hours of the night. I received prophetic dreams of work emergencies and jolted awake to find my gift of prophecy was hit or miss. And, of course, I began each morning with a proper scrolling prayer.
In this regard, philosophy graduate school was a relief. I have yet to receive this call: “Rich! Sorry to wake you, but we need you to write an article on Aristotle’s Metaphysics, stat!” Nonetheless, hidden behind the slower pace of academic life there is something more restless: My time is my own.
At first, this sounds ideal. What could be better than that? The problem arose when I
considered what I needed to do with this time. I need to write dozens of articles and a few books. I need to teach the most innovative and groundbreaking classes. I need to promote philosophy within the university and in the public eye. And, of course, I want the other stuff too: a thriving family life, the ability to cook decent meals, and to finally win a game of Settlers of Catan (I’m cursed).
Now you can see how “my time is my own” is not exactly freeing. It’s daunting. Where
do I start? Do I begin pulling all-nighters now or when I’m ABD? Should I read, like,
everything?
The terror of the task is exacerbated by the lack of a physical boundary. In my prior life, I
at least had a dual monitor office desk on the 30th floor of a skyscraper where work was, theoretically, confined. But as a philosopher, I can properly work anywhere: on a run, in line at the grocery store, as I play with my toddler, etc. Should I spend any time not working? Wouldn’t that be irresponsible of me?
No—I must have boundaries. If I philosophized nonstop my brain would be mashed
potatoes, and I’d burn out in a single semester. Oh, and I’d probably hate philosophy. Constant academic work would undermine my academic goals. I considered this irony as I packed my East Village apartment for grad school.
I decided to replace my incessant phone checking with another religious ritual: a rest day. Shabbat, Uposatha, the Lord’s Day, Jumu’ah—religions East to West have venerated rest days. Only recently has this ancient practice been forgotten. Some blame capitalism, others the iPhone, and yet others the repeal of Sunday work prohibitions. Rest days were typically associated with worship. And how could they not be? The mere idea of a day with no work elicits shouts of joy, as my hands are forced into the air. Maybe I’ll sleep in! Maybe I’ll read a book for fun! On the drive to Texas, I set the rules. I pledged to take one day off from work every single week—no cheating.
Four years later I’ve had over 200 rest days, not including vacations. I am more rested
and more excited for academic work. And, crucially, I have never felt burnt out. Could I be further ahead on my dissertation or have another publication? Probably. In some ways, the rest day is a self-demotion. Other PhDs might be scurrying past me in the rat race. That’s alright, as this demotion is something I needed. More importantly, this is something others in my life needed from me. When I’m racing at full speed, my life increasingly revolves around me, and I’m blinded to the periphery. Rest days force me to slow down. I can grab some popcorn, take a seat in the bleachers, and cheer others on in their endeavors.
Rich Eva
Rich Eva is a philosophy PhD candidate at Baylor University specializing in ethics and social & political philosophy. His work can be found at richevaphilosophy.com.
