Terms with Time
“He knew now that it was his own will to happiness which must make the next move. But if he was to do so, he realized that he must come to terms with time, that to have time was at once the most magnificent and the most dangerous of experiments.” ALBERT CAMUS · A HAPPY DEATH
Mersault, the hero of Camus’s first novel, arrives at something basic. Nobody is going to make him happy. His own will has to do the next thing.
But to act on that will he needs time, and here the sentence turns. Time, Camus writes, is the most magnificent and the most dangerous of experiments.
Both halves are true, and most people only plan for the magnificent half. We imagine that given open days we would read, build, think, rest, finally become the person we suspect is in there somewhere. Sometimes that happens. Often, though, empty time simply proves that we never knew what we wanted, and the hours fill with whatever is close at hand.
Time is dangerous because it strips away excuses. Busy, you can blame the schedule. Free, you find out what you actually reach for. The answer is not always flattering.
Camus was in his twenties when he wrote this, already sick, already aware that his time was shorter than most. The urgency is not about productivity. It is about direction. Your will to happiness has to know where it is going before the time arrives, or the time will spend itself on your behalf.
Decide now what you would do with an open afternoon. Then fit a piece of it into this week before the week decides for you.
