Mourning the Luxury of Time: A New Zealand Reflection

A place with a slower pace can suit someone very well and still ask them to build a new rhythm.

By Neil Solomon · 2 min read

Picture a couple named Marguerite and Tobias. They worked hard for a long time. The idea of having time was the thing they wanted most. Now, in New Zealand, they have it.

Someone who wrote about this life used a word that caught my attention. They spoke of mourning the luxury of time. Not enjoying it. Mourning it. I have thought about that phrase more than I expected.

When the thing you wanted arrives

I think it is common to want time for years and then feel odd when it comes. A full calendar tells you who you are. An empty one asks the question again. Some people say the first months are a relief, and the next months are a kind of quiet loss, because the old rush gave them a sense of use.

I do not read this as a sign that the move was wrong. I read it as a sign that time has weight. When there is a lot of it, each hour starts to ask something of you.

How people describe the change

Some talk about mornings that stretch. Others about weekends that no longer feel different from weekdays. A few say they miss being needed at a certain hour. Others say the opposite, that they are only now noticing the light.

Marguerite and Tobias had this exchange on a slow afternoon.

"I thought I would feel free," Marguerite says.

"You do," Tobias says. "You also feel something else."

"Yes. I think I miss the hurry."

I find that honest. It does not make the new life smaller. It makes it more real.

Why this belongs in a plan

When people think about how long they will live in a place, they tend to count money and health. I would add one more thing, which is how a person fills long, quiet days over many years. A place with a slower pace can suit someone very well and still ask them to build a new rhythm. That takes a season or two, and it is better to know that going in.