I’ve always been short on time. At least since I was small.  Then, there were summers. But even as a child, being the eldest meant watching sisters (and they know how easy that was!), or walking the dog, or washing the car, or playing Scrabble with my grandmother (who was not above cheating…). I  rarely set my own schedule.

But lately, with a few exceptions — happily agreed to — I’m free to do just that. And it’s beyond addictive. In fact, despite having virtually limitless stretches of time rolling away before  me like a ball of ribbon, I’m pretty protective of it. Ask me to do something, and I’m pretty sure to say ‘let me check my calendar.’ Because I really don’t want three, or four, or sometimes even two things to do in one day…

Yesterday, for instance? I knew I had to do the laundry from the wonderful camping weekend I spent w/ my niece. And check email that wasn’t available at camp. And water plants, feed birds, do dishes… normal maintenance. AND teach class tonight. So anything else?  Seemed like too much…

For me, a broken hour glass doesn’t mean the sands have run out, but that there’s no longer a measurement of time passing. I don’t have to worry about ‘spending’ time. It’s no longer a commodity. When things go a  bit awry — traffic in front of me, or an unexpected phone call that needs attending to at that moment — it’s okay. I have time. Finally I know what that means. Time is mine.

If I want to sit on the deck in the cool morning air, and drink tea while I watch birds, I can. And not feel a deadline hovering over my shoulder. This week is absolutely to be looked forward to, to be lived moment by moment. The moments become almost liquid, time like a river…

I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to figure out; it’s kind of the whole meditation thing in a nutshell. Maybe that’s why my little old ladies always seemed so patient with me when I was small. They knew this secret: time really is infinitely expandable and contractable. Kind of like love ~