The Puzzle of Time
Sitting at my desk, on May 17th (a Tuesday) at 8:48 pm Pacific Standard Time. The day flew by with little to count for it. Tomorrow we are mid-week as another week flies by.
Time . . .
Time is a wily character. It flies when you hope it will crawl. It stops. It slows when you wish it would speed along.
Is this the nature of time?
Or is it my expectation and reaction to time?
Not sure.
At times.
Sometimes.
Any time.
Timely.
Time worn.
Timeless.
In Labor & Delivery, or at a home birth, someone names aloud the Time of Birth.
In the records, someone writes down the time the head of the baby is born…and then records the time when the entire body arrives.
In the operating room, or in an emergency situation where professionals are in charge of a life, someone announces the Time of Death.
Does anybody really know what time it is?
Does anybody really care?
If so I can’t imagine why
We’ve all got time enough to die.-Robert William Lamm/Chicago
Time stops for no one, hence it holds a foundational place in human existence.
It still feels surreal that my husband passed through time into death. Time stopped for his physical body. Our time with him, in the way we knew it, stopped. Our time with him, in the way each of us understands it, is alive somehow through our memories, imagination, and, perhaps, our philosophy of life & death.
There is a strong knowing in me that I have time to figure out what that statement means for me . . .
I have time.
Yet, see how time flies! This morning, I am contemplating how the hours in THIS DAY invest in the rest of my life.
Heavy thoughts.
The bold statement — I have time — reminds me that I truly do not know if the next moment, much less tomorrow or next week, will be mine to occupy.
Since I don’t know my own timeline with certainty, what then?
Enter … “this moment” …
If I am awake to it, I have this moment. This breath.
In THIS moment (now Wednesday) May 18th at 8:35am Pacific Standard Time, let me do the next thing—breakfast.
Let me leave the bigger meaning to seek out what joy this day may hold.
Now.
In gratitude, I let time move to the background of my mind.
For now.
