We Are Not Calendars

I am a time traveler. We all are, but some don't remember. I myself forget every now and then. Forgetting makes space for us to create other versions of ourselves. But remembering is what allows us to integrate who we were and are with who we are becoming. The memory of who we were helps locating yourself in time, finding the coordinates that tell you "wow, I was heading in another direction and at some point something distracted me or stole my attention or I didn't even notice I got distracted, but now I'm going to get back on my path." Current life, between what we call academia, the market, society, makes us forget we are nature. Makes us repeat that we are calendars, when we are what remained of entire galaxies. We are made of suns and planets that traveled in meteors, we are made of water and memories that already existed in clouds even before the sun we orbit today was formed. And yet here we are, sitting in front of a screen, or moving through public transit, repeating micro-tasks that last less than four seconds before being forgotten.

The current story we have been living is a temporal crisis. It is leaving us all exhausted under an immense overload of information. It is driven by short-term capitalism, where the news of the day makes us forget individual and collective long-term goals. All of this masks that, at the core of today's narrative, what prevails is an erosion of meaning. Technology is not the problem, but it is not the solution either. But if it shapes us as a society, it is because there are certain individuals and a worldview shaping its uses and influence. When I talk about this, I like to remember that I question this worldview that has many names (currently technofeudalism, but also neoliberalism, capitalism, colonialism... and they are all the same worldview), but that today I do not live outside of it or of its impacts. I have visited many projects around the world that offer glimpses of what alternative visions and models could be, but the fact that it was treated as the only possibility has affected and continues to affect everyone, everywhere.

But it was not always like this. And it will not be like this forever. You are already part of the great event of change. It's just that your focus is still on the echoes of what was being repeated as the only truth. Many innovation processes begin by observing what has already been done for inspiration. But in that process they often end up repeating the echoes of the current vision. I begin my innovation processes with deep listening to the field. What do the people, the territories, the ecosystems involved tell me when I allow myself to exist in openness and exchange? Naturally, bridges emerge with other projects and initiatives, but it is important that these references be observed and not taken as a direction to follow. Many times the seed of a new idea does not germinate because we throw sand from another terrain on top of it instead of nurturing what is already there so that its soil is fertile.

All of this takes time. It happens in seasons with many days and nights, with many different weathers, sun and rain, until it takes shape. And that is why I write. Not as an answer, but as companionship. As a reminder that you are already in motion, even when you seem to be standing still. That if today it feels like you are lost, most likely you are just ahead of your time. That time is not the clock that demands from you, but the rhythm that sustains you when you allow yourself to listen to it. I spent thirteen years crossing portals between worlds, from the Amazon to Europe, from corporate boardrooms to terreiros, from algorithms to ancestral rituals. And what I learned is simple, even though it took a lifetime to understand: it is not about managing time. It is about inhabiting time. About recognizing that each crossing transforms you, each transition prepares you, and each transmission plants something you may never see bloom… but that is already alive.

Everything ends. Everything begins. Everything is temporal. And that is precisely why it matters.

Have a good week, traveler.