Good morning Reader—

And welcome to the 30th issue of The FAM.

In 1983, Howard Schultz traveled to Milan, Italy, to attend an international housewares trade show. While exploring the city, he visited numerous espresso bars and became captivated by Italian coffee culture. The experience profoundly shaped Schultz's vision, inspiring him to reimagine Starbucks not just as a retailer, but as a "third place"—a welcoming social environment distinct from home (the first place) and work (the second), where people could unwind, connect, and feel part of a community.

Fast forward to today, and most Starbucks locations are filled with empty couches and tables, while drive-through lines are backed up with stressed-out drivers worried they'll be late for work or getting their child to dance class. In a short period, Starbucks has morphed from that third place of connection to just another reminder of how little time we have for ourselves.

So what's going on?

It seems to me we no longer search for the third place. After all, we have places to be. This morning, we get the kids ready, out the door, and to church. Later, trips to Costco and the grocery store. Tomorrow—or on a typical Monday—we need to get the kids to the bus stop or school drop-off line in time, then rush to work without spilling our Starbucks on our shirt before jumping into a Zoom room. After the 9-to-5, back to pick up the kids and get them to ballet or hockey practice on time.

There's no place poverty in our stressed-out world today, but there is time poverty.

• Over 70% of workers say what they want most is time to reset, not new benefits.
• The number one source of stress for working parents is not having enough time for themselves.
• Many would trade up to 21% of their income for more discretionary time.

We're high-achieving and high-giving, but internally depleted.

The demands of day-to-day life stack up so wide that we literally don't have a single hour in the week that's unequivocally ours.

In Search Of A Counterbalance

What we need is a counterbalance to the world's demands. This counterbalance? We're not going to find more time—time is static—but we can reframe it. We can reclaim our inner time over external time.

Let me explain. We structure our lives around time, yet hardly give it the time of day.

There's an ancient myth about Cronos, the personification of time in Greek mythology. The Titan king lived in dread of a prophecy foretelling his overthrow by one of his children. In a desperate bid to defy fate, Cronos swallowed his offspring at birth—all except Zeus. In doing so, he was abolishing vitality, youthfulness, and time itself.

Cronos feared the future, so he devoured it.

Time today gobbles up our lives through endless demands and obligations—the relentless march of deadlines, notifications, commutes, places to be, and expectations that leave us fragmented and exhausted. It's as if the myth prophesied our era of dual-income families and computers in our hands, where time marches on not as a gentle flow, but as a voracious entity swallowing moments of joy, rest, and connection.

In our haste, we chase productivity like Cronos chased security, only to be imprisoned by the very clock we worship.

Do I view time as a resource to be spent, or to be lived?

From Scientific To Lived Time

Imagine you're at a boring meeting that feels like it drags on forever, even though it's only an hour. Now contrast that with losing track of time while engrossed in a great conversation or hobby—suddenly hours have flown by, but it felt like minutes. This isn't just a quirk of perception; it's what French philosopher Henri Bergson called "lived time."

Bergson challenged the rigid, clock-based way we view time, arguing there's a big difference between the time we measure and the time we experience.

Scientific time, or clock time, is the quantitative, measurable stuff we're all familiar with: seconds, minutes, hours ticking away like a machine. Think of it as the time on your watch or calendar, divisible into chunks and focused on efficiency. Bergson saw this as useful for science and daily life—like getting your children to the bus stop—but said it misses the real essence of how humans experience the world. It's like slicing life into neat, uniform pieces, ignoring the messy, flowing reality underneath.

Lived time is the qualitative, subjective side—the time you live from the inside out. It's not about counting; it's about feeling. It's fluid and indivisible—you can't chop it into equal parts because each moment blends into the next, influenced by your inner state. It's deeply personal: Your lived time during a family dinner might feel rich and expansive, while someone else's could feel rushed and empty.

Bergson's big idea was that we've become too obsessed with scientific time in modern life—treating everything like a production line (or a Starbucks drive-through)—which robs us of true fulfillment. Instead, he encouraged tuning into lived time to unlock creativity and purpose.

The real shift is this: from "How much time do I have?" to "How does this time feel?"

By embracing lived time, we can transform work, relationships, and personal growth from mechanical tasks into meaningful experiences.

Let's take this further.

Three Presents Of Time

Picture yourself sitting quietly, your mind wandering to a cherished family memory, snapping back to the warmth of the coffee in your hand right now, then drifting forward to dreaming about that vacation you've been contemplating. In that single moment, you're not just in the present—you're experiencing time in a deeper, more human way.

This is the essence of what St. Augustine, a 4th- and 5th-century Christian thinker and philosopher, described in his famous work, Confessions. He flipped the script on time, arguing that it isn’t just an external structure - like the ancient Greeks believed - something measured by motion, cycles, or the sun’s path—but something we carry within us, shaping how we think, feel, and live.

For Augustine, true time exists in three interconnected presents:

The present of the past (memory): This is like your mental scrapbook—how you hold onto and make sense of what's already happened. Augustine said memory isn't just replaying old events; it's actively reflecting on them in the present to find meaning.

The present of the present (attention): This is the core of being truly alive in the moment—the act of focusing your awareness on what's happening right here, right now. It's about being present in the flow, cutting through the noise to notice the beauty, wonder, or even chaos around you.

The present of the future (hope): Here, Augustine focused on anticipation—how we lean into what's coming, not with anxiety, but with dreams, goals, and aspirations. It's the present act of hoping, planning, or striving, like visualizing a better tomorrow to motivate today's actions.

How Do You Want To Live Your Life?

Two old-school thinkers, St. Augustine and Henri Bergson, remind us that today is not about the stacks of obligations or checklists in front of us—it's about the everyday feel of your days.

They both push us to see time not as a ticking clock that controls us, but as something personal and internal that we shape. Augustine focuses time as a mental and spiritual experience through three presents, while Bergson emphasizes the lived feel of time over measurable hours.

Together, they help you reframe the question from "What should I do?" to "How do I want my moments to feel and flow?"

Without this inner focus, life feels like it's happening to you. Life stops feeling chosen and starts feeling imposed.

Instead, you get to decide how it flows through you, making choices that feel purposeful and alive.

The next time you get in that Starbucks drive-through, you can flip the script from "I'm running late—how long is this going to take?" to "How do I want to live my life?"

Instead of letting life happen, reclaim it as your own story and sensation.

PS: As I’ve been reflecting on time as the New Year approaches, I’ve come to see something clearly: what most of us are missing isn’t information, motivation, or even community. It’s time that actually belongs to us. Not efficient time. Not optimized time. But protected time - a small, sacred window where we’re not needed by our work, our inbox, our families, or the world’s expectations. Time to connect with ourselves.

Most movements are built around space - places to go, platforms to join, rooms to enter. What we’re exploring with The FAM is different. We’re building around time. The idea that one intentional moment - one pause - can quietly restore clarity, energy, and direction. That if you reclaim even a short stretch of time with honesty and care, the rest of your life begins to reorganize around it.

That’s the spirit behind our January 1 Fully Alive Fresh Start. Not a hype-filled event. Not a time to develop your list of resolutions. But a calm, grounded moment to step out of the noise, release what’s been weighing you down, and begin the year with intention.

If this essay stirred something in you - if time feels scarce, stretched, or lost - consider joining us. Sometimes, the most powerful way to change your future… is to choose how you spend the first hour of it.

​Register for free here.​

We’re on a mission to empower one million people to live Fully Alive, and you’re one of them!