I've noticed the less I pay attention to time, the more on-time I am. Yesterday morning getting ready to leave my sister's, I set a general time of departure for 10:30 to give me an hour to pick up my daughter from her friend's church. Without really thinking about time, I took my time having coffee, visiting, packing, getting dressed. When I finally started my car and pulled away...........it was 10:33.
Even when I was a young, I felt like a little girl in a big hurry, like I didn't have much time to do what I needed to do. As a result I've spent most of my life wearing a watch and paying attention to time. A few years ago I stopped wearing a watch except at times when I absolutely have to....times like in class when I'm using the projector screen and can't see the clock.....times like when I was in Europe and on a tight schedule.
Tonight while walking the dog I realized how much I've been writing about time, both the quality and quantity of it. So tonight I resolved to only pay attention to what my senses told me of the moment. The sky was the soft, black velvet of the floor-length skirt my brother gave me when I was 10. The air had the crisp smell of dried leaves mixed w/ burning walnut from chimneys. The crunch of leaves as I see my friend Barb approaching w/ her dog, and we stand for 15 minutes catching up w/ each other's lives. All that really matters is now. The cold plastic of the retractable leash, my thumb poised on the button. Nothing to taste, just the dream of the roasted almonds and soy milk I'm going to have when I get home. Grounded in now.
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