I am struck, as I always seem to be, by how fast a month can travel by. Filled days, sometimes overfilled, I am convinced lead to undesired speed warps, but despite my attempts to slow us down, this year we've clearly been gaining speed.
One of the practices in my work I hold quite dear is one of time keeper. Time is held equally for everyone each time we meet. It is honored. All of our words deserve equal time.
I have never once, in a writing circle, tried to give my time away to another writer. I claim it. Own it. Cherish it.
But in my other life. . .
We are often running late, stressed, and charging out the door. The dog, in her crate, whines as we enter the house again and again to retrieve the items we were too much in a hurry to remember, and I tell myself, again and again, it is possible to be across town in ten minutes, without speeding, when it always takes twenty.
Sure, at times we are late because something so needed has been accidentally left behind. Sometimes our rush just can't be helped, but mostly, mostly it is because I am not holding our time.
I allow us to linger, thinking I can turn a few minutes into more than a few. I check my email one more time. I say yes when our day, week, month is already full. I forget to allow for time to walk the dog or pack lunches. I don't allow for long transitions, even though they often take time, linger in conversations when I've already said we're leaving, and don't allow for things like traffic, a car needing gas, how long it takes to find shoes.
What this is bringing up for me is not some shame on me, I should make sure to get us places on time. Clearly, it would be best to be on time, but it's not the point.
What it is bringing up is how many times have I given my time, our time away because time wasn't been held equally.
How many activities should we have said not this time, emails or messages should I have allowed to wait, friends could I have talked to later, hours should I have given myself to sit down and address the work needing to be addressed, instead of trying to grab minutes here and there.
A couple of activities have already ended for the season, many more end in May. We have three weekends of camping, a garden beginning, and it is beautiful out. We need to dip our toes in creeks and sleep in the hammock. That time is just as important as any other.
So I've enlisted the help of a time keeper. I bought the boy a watch. Attentive, a leader, and in love with being on time, he is thrilled.
We don't have to go at it alone.
And of course, I have a job to do as well. In this life, more than one time keeper is needed.
I have to honor the minutes that tick by whether I'm holding them with intention or not, and cherish them a little more, stop giving them away.