There comes a point in (almost) everyone’s life where they will find themselves feeling a bit pressed for time. It could be a fleeting moment, or the feeling may last for years.
Time…a resource that some feel is more precious than gold…more valuable than money…
Yet often it is traded as though it were an actual currency.
Time…something that folks try to tell me is “set” and “standard” and “measurable” but yet feels bend-y and flexible and random to me…
Time…we never seem to know where it goes…or when it will come ‘round again…if we can capture it somehow…or if it will forever allude us…
Time…is it indeed finite? Will we actually “run out of time?” Or does it, somehow, actually go on forever, even if I, human that I am, do not?
I watch the clock tick and know that means Time is Passing. Yet internally, it feels as though it has stood still…or…is passing far more quickly than that second-hand denotes.
I find myself yelling, “Let’s go! I don’t have time to wait!” And yet…some days it feels as though I’ve all the time in the world.
Last weekend I was encouraged by my mother-in-law to take her new Scooter for a spin down the street. I hopped on…and felt time speed up as though I, suddenly, was the 80-year old and she but a figment of my memory…thirty years slipped away as I scootered my way past the neighbours.
Time should, by rights, be slowing down to a snail’s pace. It is July, after all. Where have the long, deep, slow summers of years gone by actually gone?! All I feel is a speeding up…a slippery slope before me that slides directly into Christmas…bypassing every holiday, every occasion, every Sunday afternoon between Now and Then.
And I don’t like it.
I don’t like it one bit.
But Time doesn’t seem to care.
“It’s a good thing,” said my Spiritual Friend. And she went on about something to do with energy fields and grids and 5D something-or-other…
“I told you that would happen when you got old!” said my Dad when I lamented to him about the speed at which Time seemed to be moving.
“You’re weird,” said my teenager when I told her that I envied her long, lazy July days.
My watch taps me on the wrist.
Another hour has passed, it says, it’s time to stand up and stretch!
“Where does the time go?” I say to my dog.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she says in response, munching on her bone.
What is this strange relationship in which I find myself with Time? Will I ever fully grasp it? Ever reconcile the mysteries within it? Ever feel truly at peace with it?
Time, I suppose, will tell! 😉
xx Rebecca
You can find more from Rebecca at Plaid For Women or connect with her on her website.
