Not long ago, I had a conversation with a CEO who, somewhere between checking his phone and adjusting his tie, declared: “I just don’t have time to pursue what I really want.” It was a very solemn moment. Almost moving. Had it not been for the fact that, during our 20-minute chat, he checked his phone 17 times. That’s once every 45 seconds—20 if you subtract the part where he closed his eyes and said “Mmm” to pretend he was listening
This obsession with being busy—without actually being productive—reminds me of college, where my friends and I had a word for such behaviour: time-pass. Imagine this: a group of half-asleep students, munching peanuts from a paper cone, producing a small hill of peanut shells while the lecture droned on in the background. The goal wasn’t learning, the goal was killing time. In truth, time wasn’t dying. We were. Slowly, but with excellent dental, rather than mental, exercise.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: time is not some magical commodity you can stockpile in your cupboard like noodles packets during a lockdown. Time is simply thought flow—a stream of ideas and intentions floating through your mind like a lazy river. When that flow is directed toward something meaningful, you feel like you’ve got all the time in the world. When it’s derailed by distractions—texts, notifications, or the sudden urge to Google “How tall is Shah Rukh Khan?”—you’ve just built yourself a mountain of empty peanut shells.
The problem isn’t that we don’t have enough time. The problem is that we scatter our attention as if it were confetti at a birthday party. Take exercise, for instance. Everyone intends to work out, but it requires channelling at least 20 minutes of uninterrupted thought flow. That’s when temptation knocks. Netflix releases a new series, Instagram shows you a cat video, and your fridge suddenly becomes more attractive than your treadmill. Before you know it, the only running you’ve done is running out of excuses.
So here’s my modest challenge: pick three goals for the week. Just three. Not 15, not 37 scribbled in your planner, each waiting to die of neglect. Guard these three goals as if they were the last peanuts in your paper cone. If you can do this, time won’t pass you by; it will conspire with you to make success inevitable.
If you don’t choose your peanuts, someone else will. Your boss will. Your inbox will. Your aunt, who sends inspirational reels at midnight, will. And soon, you’ll be living a life filled with peanut shells, wondering where all your actual peanuts went.
The CEO eventually admitted he spends hours late at night reading emails that could wait till morning. “But what if I miss something?” he said. I wanted to tell him: You’re already missing everything. Your child’s bedtime story. The possibility of sleep. The opportunity to not know how tall Shah Rukh Khan is. (But in case you’re wondering, he’s 5 ft 8.)
Success, then, is not about doing more; it is about doing what matters most. So, the next time you find yourself unlocking your phone for the 17th time in 20 minutes, ask yourself this: Am I adding to my peanut shells, or am I guarding the last peanut?
Choose wisely, because time is not waiting—it’s flowing.
