Nietzsche Knew: Becoming Yourself Takes Novelty
Nobody in the study was taught to want the reward less. That’s what makes it interesting. Slowing time, shaping the future: The effect of mindfulness on intertemporal choice, published in the International Journal of Research in Marketing by Amy Errmann (Auckland University of Technology), Yuri Seo (University of Auckland), Felix Septianto (University of Queensland), and Xing-Yu Chu, ran six studies — field and lab, real money and real coupons — and found that mindfulness makes people more willing to wait for a bigger reward later, not because it strengthens willpower, but because it changes how long the wait feels. Augustine got there first. Writing around 397 CE, in Book XI of Confessions, he argued that time isn’t something ticking along outside you at all. It’s a stretching of the mind — a distentio animi — built out of memory, attention, and expectation. Change the attention, and you change the time.
| Question | What we found |
|---|---|
| Who ran the study? | Amy Errmann, Yuri Seo, Felix Septianto, and Xing-Yu Chu |
| Where and when? | International Journal of Research in Marketing, Vol. 82; press coverage via phys.org and The Conversation on August 2-3, 2026 |
| How big was it? | Six studies — two field studies (a mindful walking class, a bakery), four lab experiments with consequential choices |
| What did they find? | Mindfulness increases preference for delayed rewards by slowing subjective time and making the future feel more “time-rich” — not by making people value the reward more |
| Standout numbers | Delayed-choice rate went from 36% to 69% after a mindful walking class; from 51% to 78% among bakery customers who watched a short mindfulness video before choosing a coupon |
| What did Augustine argue, 1,600+ years earlier? | Time is not an external flow but a distentio animi — a stretching of the mind — measured through memory of the past, attentio to the present, and expectation of the future |
The Quick Version
A 2026 marketing-research paper found that mindfulness makes waiting for a bigger reward easier — not by boosting self-control, but by slowing how time feels and making the future seem closer and more reachable. Augustine described the identical mechanism in Confessions Book XI: time is measured in the mind, through the moving point of attention that continuously converts expectation into memory. The study calls it “time-richness.” Augustine called it distentio animi. Same lever, sixteen centuries apart.
Most delayed-gratification research treats willpower as the variable — train self-control, get better choices. Errmann, Seo, Septianto, and Chu tested something else: whether a state of attention, with no instruction to resist anything, would change the choice on its own.
In one field study, people took a mindful walking class — nothing about money mentioned — and were then asked to choose between $5 now or $10 in a week. Before the class, 36% chose to wait. After it, 69% did. In a second field study, bakery customers watched a short mindfulness video, then picked between a smaller coupon usable immediately and a larger one redeemable in two weeks. Watching the video pushed the larger-delayed choice from 51% to 78% compared to a control group. Across four additional lab experiments, using real behavioral stakes rather than hypothetical ones, the pattern held even when the delay stretched from a few months out to six months — mindful participants kept preferring to wait; control groups’ preference for delay eroded as the gap grew.
The mechanism the researchers isolated is specific: mindfulness didn’t make people care more about the size of the reward. It changed how costly the wait itself felt, by slowing subjective time and making the future feel closer, more “time-rich,” less like an empty gap to be endured. Errmann put the reframe plainly in her write-up for The Conversation: it’s not that our brains undervalue the future, it’s that they hate waiting. Fix the waiting, and the future stops looking so undervalued.
That’s a real finding, and it’s worth sitting with before reaching for the sixteen-hundred-year-old parallel: this is subjective time perception doing measurable work on an economic choice, not a metaphor.
Augustine wasn’t measuring intertemporal choice. He was stuck on a much stranger question, one he admits in Confessions Book XI nearly defeats him: what is time, exactly, such that we can measure it at all?
The obvious answer — time is the motion of the sun, the turning of days, an external river we all stand in — doesn’t survive his questioning. The past no longer exists. The future doesn’t exist yet. And the present, the instant you’re actually in, has no duration at all; the moment you try to hold it, it’s already gone. So where, Augustine asks, does a “long time” or a “short time” actually live, if none of its three tenses can be pinned down anywhere outside the mind?
His answer is the one this site hasn’t covered before: time is a distentio animi — a stretching or distension of the mind itself. Not measured by clocks or sunlight, but by three operations happening inside consciousness: memoria (memory, holding the past), attentio (attention, fixed on the present), and expectatio (expectation, reaching toward the future). He illustrates it with an image that’s almost uncannily close to what the 2026 study measured: reciting a psalm he knows by heart. Before he begins, the whole poem exists ahead of him as expectation — stretched out, not yet touched. As he speaks each syllable, that expectation narrows, syllable by syllable, and drains into memory behind him. Attention is the moving point where the conversion happens — where future becomes past, one instant at a time. “The whole action,” he writes, “is distended between… expectation and memory.” The felt length of the psalm was never in the syllables. It was in how attention handled them.
That’s not a loose analogy to the 2026 findings. It’s the same claim, run through different instruments. The mindfulness paper found that a state of heightened present-moment attention changes how expansive the future feels and how costly waiting registers. Augustine argued that attention is the very mechanism by which a mind converts “not yet” into “now” into “already passed” — which is to say, the mechanism that determines whether a stretch of waiting feels vast or manageable in the first place. Train the attentional point, in a walking class or in prayer, and the distension it’s managing changes shape.
Distentio animi is Augustine’s term, from Confessions Book XI (c. 397-400 CE), for time as a stretching of the mind rather than an external flow. It’s built from three inward acts: memory of what has passed, attention to what is present, and expectation of what is to come. Duration, in this account, is measured in the mind alone — nowhere else.
Two earlier posts here touch time and touch Augustine separately, and it’s worth being precise about why this one is different rather than a repeat.
The Bergson piece covers durée — Bergson’s argument that lived time is a continuous melody, not a grid of measurable units, and that clock-time flattens experience into intervals that don’t match how consciousness actually works. That’s a claim about the texture of time. Augustine’s distentio animi is a claim about the mechanism — the specific inner operations (memory, attention, expectation) that produce duration in the first place. Bergson describes what gets lost. Augustine explains what’s doing the measuring.
This site’s earlier Augustine post draws on a different part of Confessions entirely — the inquietum cor, the restless heart and the concupiscentia/caritas split, applied to why doom-scrolling never satisfies. That’s Augustine’s theory of desire. This is Augustine’s theory of time. They share an author and a text, not an argument. Neither earlier post cites Book XI, distentio animi, or attentio at all, which is the actual gap this piece fills.
None of this makes Augustine a proto-behavioral-economist, and the differences are worth naming directly.
The 2026 study is about a specific, bounded outcome: intertemporal choice in consumer and monetary contexts, measured across six controlled studies. Augustine is making a much larger metaphysical claim — that all of time, cosmic and personal, is constituted this way, wrapped up in a theological argument about a mind made to find rest outside itself. A bakery coupon experiment doesn’t verify Augustine’s metaphysics of time. It verifies that something resembling his account of attention-mediated duration shows up as a measurable effect on how people trade off money and delay.
There’s also a real risk of over-claiming the “mindfulness slows time” framing on its own. The study measured subjective time perception and its downstream effect on choice — it didn’t find that mindfulness literally makes clocks run differently, and the researchers were studying consumer decisions, not therapeutic outcomes. The site’s coverage of mindfulness’s documented limits is worth reading alongside this one; present-moment attention isn’t a universal fix, and for some people sustained attention to the present is where distress lives, not where it dissolves.
And Augustine’s own honesty about the difficulty is worth preserving rather than smoothing over. He spends much of Book XI admitting he still doesn’t fully understand what he’s describing — “I confess to Thee, O Lord, that I still know not what time is.” The theory is powerful. It isn’t a solved problem, for him or for anyone since.
Neither the researchers nor Augustine wrote this as a technique, but the shared mechanism points somewhere usable.
Errmann, Seo, Septianto, and Chu weren’t testing Augustine. They were testing whether a specific attentional state changes an economic choice, and found that it does, reliably, across six studies and two very different real-world settings. Augustine wasn’t running a bakery experiment. He was trying to answer a question that had stumped him for a lifetime — what time actually is — and landed on an answer built entirely out of memory, attention, and expectation, sixteen centuries before anyone could measure it with a coupon and a control group. The dial he found was attention. The 2026 study just showed you can turn it.
This post discusses a 2026 marketing-research study on mindfulness and intertemporal choice, and a classical philosophical text. It isn’t a substitute for professional guidance on financial decision-making or mental health. If anxiety about the future or difficulty with patience is significantly affecting daily life, a therapist or financial counselor can help in ways a walking class can’t.