“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
Observatories always have scared me a little bit. I’m not sure why, other than my extreme childhood motion sickness that kicked in every time the stars and planets swirled around overhead. I much prefer the real thing. Laying on my back on a wooden dock, looking up at the meteor shower, or watching the sunset from my upstairs window, or witnessing the dawn over the ridge of the Sierras creates much more meaning than seeing the entire universe spin before my eyes.
It’s all about time, though. Stretching my brain big enough to encompass the billions and billions of years our solar system has existed simply exhausts and terrifies me. I was born in the 60s, a time of revolution. A time of possibility. A time of purpose.
So today, in the 21st century, how is it that the exact same number of seconds, minutes and hours that every human has possessed, the precise amount of time, does not constantly fill me with possibility, purpose. or revolution – instead of panic?
Live in the moment. Seize the day. Live every day like it is your last.
I’ve heard them all. We are all busy, busy people. We all have a new day every 24 hours to use as we see fit.
So why is it that my day, which starts well before dawn, never seems long enough? Is that why I’m always running a e message in my mind? Slow down, focus, be in the present, there will be time for that later…
I wish it was as simple as Tolkien said.
I wish all I had to decide was what to do with the time that is given us. I wish that such a simple decision wasn’t so complicated.
I’m great at it in the classroom. I maximize every single second. I don’t believe in wasting one minute of the 55 I get with my students each day.
When the school day ends, and I start my second job at home, I feel the same way. The afternoons and evenings are jam packed with chores, homework, lessons, and a bit of reading, writing, cooking, and the occasional chess game.
Weekends- November to April are in the snow.
Summers? Travel, camps, gardening, and catching up on the neglected issues from the school year.
I wish every second I have could be frozen, duplicated, or held in my heart. I am acutely, painfully aware that the time with my daughter at home is rushing by. My son is on the cusp of all that is good and terrifying about adolescence. It’s not really as simple as Tolkien says.
I tick the hours by; days turn into weeks, then months. Then years. Suddenly, it’s been nearly 18.
Time is more precious now than ever.
Someday soon, I will have more time than I can imagine. Endless hours to decide what to do.
Just not who I want to spend it with.
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