In a fast-paced world that often glorifies productivity, the idea of “killing time” is pervasive. We’ve all experienced the feeling of simply passing time, letting days drift by in routine or distraction. But what if, instead of just passing through moments, we could “fill” them intentionally—bringing curiosity, awareness, and even restfulness into the smallest of life’s intervals?
A thought experiment around this concept imagines each moment as a jar on a conveyor belt, coming toward us in steady, endless succession. We can fill each one with an experience, a thought, a question, or sometimes nothing at all. But how should we approach filling each jar without making it an obligation? And what role do questions play in these moments? Are they filling the jar with meaning, or are they merely placeholders, gestures that keep us connected to the present?
Why Fill a Moment with a Question?
A question is a unique way of filling time—it doesn’t demand an answer, action, or even a resolution. Instead, a question invites us into a subtle awareness of where we are in that particular moment. Questions can become small markers of curiosity, the kind that says, “I’m here, I’m paying attention.” When we pause to ask ourselves something like, “Am I present right now?” we aren’t trying to solve anything. Rather, we’re gently orienting ourselves, making space to feel and notice what’s present within us.
Asking a question in a given moment doesn’t “fill” it with something tangible but instead opens up space for awareness. That alone can be enough. A question allows us to notice without demanding answers or action. In this way, it’s less about filling a jar and more about acknowledging the jar itself—bringing mindful attention to the container of time before us, letting it simply be.
When Questions Become Too Much
It’s easy, however, to overfill moments with questions, leading to what can feel like an endless loop of self-inquiry. If we feel we “should” ask ourselves questions to make each moment meaningful, we run the risk of turning curiosity into an obligation, creating a sense of restlessness rather than contentment. Here’s where balance comes in: we don’t need to fill every jar with questions or even purposeful awareness. In fact, some of the most refreshing moments are those we allow to pass by naturally, without probing them.
Questions, then, can be used selectively. When we feel curious, contemplative, or uncertain, asking a question might serve as a gentle check-in. But when we feel at peace or simply content, it’s equally meaningful to allow the moment to pass without intervention, to let it be one of those jars we leave “empty,” filling it only with the ease of being.
The Value of Disengagement
Not every moment needs to be actively engaged with. Periods of disengagement, where we allow ourselves to be at rest without agenda, hold immense value. Just as music is made by the interplay of notes and silences, life is made richer by moments of engagement and rest. Disengagement, in a sense, isn’t truly empty—it’s a way for the mind to recharge, process, and integrate experiences passively.
In these times, we may let our minds wander, daydream, or simply observe our surroundings without analysis. Such moments feel like jars set aside for later—a way to accumulate energy and let our subconscious mind process things that might surface in time. Disengagement isn’t about wasting time; it’s about creating the space for insights to emerge naturally, free from expectation.
A Balanced Approach to Filling Moments
To make the most of this “jar-filling” approach, it’s essential to maintain a gentle rhythm of engagement and rest, questions and stillness. Instead of constantly questioning ourselves, we can check in with how each moment feels and decide whether it calls for inquiry, experience, or simply being.
For instance, in a moment of deep satisfaction, a question may feel unnecessary. In times of uncertainty or curiosity, a question can be a grounding presence, helping us explore our experience. We don’t need to “do something” with each moment; rather, we allow ourselves to flow between engagement and relaxation, trusting that our natural rhythm will guide us.
To embrace this balance, try asking yourself gentle questions only when they feel relevant, as subtle prompts for awareness rather than obligations. Allow some moments to simply “be,” open and unfilled, like jars left untouched on the shelf. The intention isn’t to maximize every moment but to honor each one according to its nature—sometimes filled, sometimes left empty, and sometimes marked only by a question.
Conclusion: The Art of Being Present Without Overfilling
In the end, filling moments isn’t about constantly seeking meaning or striving to stay present. It’s about inviting a quiet sense of awareness, a willingness to be curious when it feels natural, and an openness to let some moments pass without intervention. By alternating between filling jars intentionally and leaving some untouched, we create a rhythm that respects the ebb and flow of life.
The art of living fully lies not in filling every moment with purpose, but in allowing moments of curiosity, stillness, and simple presence to coexist. In this way, questions become a gentle tool—not a demand for answers but a way of staying connected to the experience of life as it unfolds, one jar at a time.
