It takes exactly three minutes of my life and it happens most mornings. I scoop into a bowl some cold oatmeal that I've cooked in a huge pot at the beginning of the week and zap it in the microwave for three minutes. I know some people think oatmeal is boring, and I understand that my even mentioning the word will lock me in your mind as someone who is as boring as porridge itself, but this kind of thing interests me.
I'm condemned by some inner compulsion to think about the daily rituals of my life. I have a low grade fever for improving myself in many ways, including everyday tasks. This extends even to making oatmeal. I love oatmeal. To me it's not boring. I agree that ordinary oatmeal is very boring, but not the steel-cut Irish kind -- the kind that pops in your mouth when you bite into it in little glorious bursts like a sort of gummy champagne. Unfortunately, it's the kind that takes 40 minutes to cook. But I love it so much that for months I was cooking it every morning while I read the paper. Then, following my insane habit of questioning everything I do to see if I can do it better, I had a eureka moment. What if I made a vat of the stuff every week? Would it still pop in my mouth if I stuck a bowlful of it in the microwave every morning? It did. And three minutes seemed like the perfect time to heat it.
So, there I was, setting the timer on the microwave every morning, and three minutes of my life would go by while molecules of moisture jumped around inside the oatmeal. Then, one morning, when the bell dinged and I opened the door to the oven, I was hit with a new wave of my unfortunate disease of self-improvement. It came in the form of a question: Where did those three minutes just go? There was something about knowing the timer was ticking off exactly 180 seconds every morning that suddenly jolted me. I waste plenty of time during the day. I play hundreds of games of chess against my computer and only beat it when it makes stupid mistakes, which is a complete waste of time. But the oatmeal part of my day is the only slice of time that gets counted to the second. And it's unnerving. Where does it go? I was unexpectedly asking myself the great existential question that occurs to most of us at some point, and to which there's no answer: If time is all we really have in life, how should we spend it?
Like all existential questions this is an annoying one. It seems to have pre-eminent importance because it is truly a question of life and death, but what are you supposed to do about it? Are you supposed to watch yourself every second? Putting on my shoes and socks, am I supposed to think: Wait, if I put on each shoe and tie the lace right after I put on each sock, I can save two seconds each morning that, in a lifetime, could add up to days. I could re-read War and Peace in that time. I'd become a better person, just by changing the order of getting into my footwear. That would be insane. By the way, I've timed it and it actually saves 10 seconds. I could probably accumulate enough time before I die to squeeze in War and Peace and two self help books, but I'm not going to put my shoes on this way because I feel it would identify me as unnecessarily crazy.
So, here's what I've decided to do. I'm going to think of those three minutes as play: a small vacation. A vacation is wasted time that doesn't seem wasted because it has a name. So, I'll name those three minutes Solitude. They will be my retreat, my morning Caribbean. I will float off into nothingness so that existence, when I return, will be even tastier.
Existence will pop to life like bubbles in a gummy champagne.
Alan Alda played Hawkeye Pierce for eleven years in the television series M*A*S*H and has acted in, written, and directed many feature films. He has starred often on Broadway, and his avid interest in science has led to his hosting PBS's Scientific American Frontiers for eleven years. He was nominated for an Academy Award in 2005 and has been nominated for thirty-one (and has won five) Emmy Awards. He is married to the children's book author and photographer Arlene Alda. They have three grown children and seven grandchildren. For more information on his new book Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself, visit www.alanaldabook.com
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Mr. Alda, I love that you wrote about this. It took me a long time to slow myself down and be in the present. And...I'm a big fan of irish oatmeal too, with walnuts.
Mr. Alda,
I have a question! Do you concider yourself a democrat, or to be on the far left? Please answer, ok, and thanks!
My father loves the Irish oatmeal. He is paranoid about microwaves, though. He likes science and politics, but in some ways, is sort of a luddite.
Mr. Alda, I hope you are doing well. I have memories of, of course, MASH going back to my teen years. It helped inform some of my politics and gave credance to some of my instincts and cynicism regarding war.
You could...
continue your selling of oatmeal, it is good for your heart.
write a book on Once-A-Month cooking, including more perfected recipes to save others time.
talk to Anne Rice, she chose Christianity.
OK GUYS...Sometimes oatmeal is really just oatmeal. Nothing deep. Not a metaphor. Just a delicious breakfast treat. Relax!
It's been a thoroughly lousy day, but this post has finally brought me a smile. I'm looking forward to tomorrow....so I can make some oatmeal and enjoy a brief trip to someplace lovely & happy. Thank you, Mr. Alda, for brightening up my day!
Listen to (or sing) a great three minute pop song. That's a great way to use the time.
I hate oatmeal and only eat if I'm sick and there's nothing else I can keep down.
I also frequently put on a sock, then a shoe, though less so these days. When I ruptured a disk in my lower back, bending to put on shoes and socks was excruciatingly painful, especially the up-and-down of switching from one foot to the next. Putting on the shoe immediately after the sock was both less painful (because I only had to change positions once) and faster, reducing the duration of the pain.
Not crazy, logical--I had a lot less pain putting on one sock, then the shoe than putting on both socks, then the shoes.
BTW, I'm a big Alan Alda fan--we have ALL 11 seasons of M*A*S*H on DVD.
This post reminds me of when I first became an employee and got the mindset that "time is money", a terrible judgement when introspecting on your own identity. Time is a philosopher's stone, eh?
Mr Alda, I liked your sci series on PBS, I especially remember and liked the one where you interviewed that old man inventor/entrepeneur in TX (?) who specializes in alternative energy development, like bio-mass fuel cells (he also appeared on "Who killed the Electric Car?") I'd have to google to recall his name.
I don't eat it like I should, but I know the more one ages the more one must take better care of one's health and diet, but "Pioneer's Porridge" is divine from Nora Mill (Helen, GA) http://www.noramill.com/
Cream-of-wheat girl myself-though I'm cutting back on gluten and grains.
You could take that 3 minutes to thank God for the invention of microwaves or the great day you could see yourself having.
Imagine how many more minutes you'd have to think if there were no microwaves!
"Alan Alda played Hawkeye Pierce for eleven years in the television series M*A*S*H"
No disrespect to Alan, but he played Hawkeye Pierce for about 3 seasons of M*A*S*H. The rest was all Alan Alda.
But his point in this post is quite brilliant. Funny how things designed to save time actually create wasted time.
I like silly challenges to occupy the 67 seconds (I have problems with 5's and evens) it takes to warm my coffee. Can I get my socks and shoes on in that time frame? Can I take a piss? Can I start the girls' breakfast? Only time will tell.
Thanks for the wonderful reminder of the preciousness of time, as well as the wonders of steel-cut oats. I just hope I can manage at least a little bit of that playful mindedness on what will soon be an hour-long commute to a new job. Hell, it's worth a try.
Being born and raised in the South I grew up deprived of oatmeal, we ate grits. Of course us kids would see oatmeal in the store and bug our mother to get it for us so we could try it just so we could, but no as we were told oatmeal was yankee food. So I ate my grits and never ate the food of yankees.
Ha!! Hey great post Mr. Alda, and to all you Huff post bloggers - I love you guys. Take Care.
I kinda see your point Mr. Alda-but not entirely. You view those 3 minutes as waiting. While you must be quite the multitasker-to even think that 3 minutes is a long time to wait-why don't you instead quit focusing on time and lamenting what you "could" be doing with it. Instead focus on being in the moment-than you have no concept of time. That's one of the problems with todays' society. We are told by others or let others judgement think we "should" be multitasking.I disagree. It's your life-As long as YOU believe you are not wasting those 3 minutes-that's all that should matter.
Those 3 minutes give you the time to calm your mind, sort through it, recognize your feelings, look outside and enjoy the morning sun.....taking the time to be in the moment as opposed to thinking ahead and losing the enjoyment of those 3 minutes.
Thanks Alan for sharing your oatmeal with us. Like you, I eat it every morning. We watch, over and over, all of the Mash stories every day and don't find it a waste of time at all. Your character and the others help us restore our joy for living.
Would love to learn about your plans for improving our humanity/society and moving toward a peace loving country.
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Posted September 5, 2007 | 05:31 PM (EST)