My eyes flick at the clock. My internal time trackers, eh, like personifications of individual worries: Guys with pocket protectors, thick glasses and calculators, who run around in MY head doing the thinking I can’t seem to do, all bend in unison and begin the calculations to departure time from my home today.

My soul longs to linger in my meditation.

Now my calculator guys hold large signs up for me to read: "Time to look at the clock again, measure the minutes!" and "Time to look at what exactly has to be gathered up around the house for this particular trip!"

Their impatience "scares" me in a worried-sort of way. What does their impatience mean? Am I missing vital information?  Must I drop it all and rush now?  I’m terrible at math. So I stop. Think Hard. One part of the equation (and this takes me half again as long for me to figure out as it took the calculator boys) finally, and always, is recognizing how much time I have until my "cut-off" time arrives.  Well, the first one, anyway. I always run late these days, so I have a warning cutoff and the final one.

"I MUST SHOWER!" [a booming commandment in my head] "Why?" I ask, pointing out that my showers take less than 20 minutes, tops. "Whatever will I fill up 40 minutes with?" The calculator boys raise one eyebrow in unison at me. I should not have messed with the calculator boys in my mind. They are always right, by the way, but I shouldn’t have messed with them for an entirely different reason. They are precise, meticulous, anal and their painful anxiety is given me, by osmosis, just long enough to begin the sentence racing through my brain now "There are 9,458 variables we have accounted for so far, as to what you might do with that 40 minutes and some of them have unacceptable time spans."

They look at me. I blink at them. My problem is I want to get wrapped up in the experience be it a shower, a meal, a task, a recreation. I always do. They’re still looking at me. Waiting. I realize I’d much rather have spent the 4 minutes it took me to jot down this very common, and automatic, experience to NOT worry about the time. Later, much later somewhere around the 47,000th encounter with the calculator boys did it occur to me: They do their job fine without my help. If I just listen to their wisdom and follow it (without fighting it) and maintain my connection with my experience, we might strike a balance, here, within.

I had a realization that we still are not seeing in all 4 dimensions. Experience is the fourth dimension.

We can hop in our race cars to "get through" each one or we can walk, stretch out our day, simply flow with it at it’s pace, allowing the gentle waves around us to move us along at the appropriate time letting go of all worry and being able to immerse oneself in experience. We can choose to savor the moments.

We will do less; make no mistake. But we will live more.

 

 

Advertisements