Time: A Scene Stealer |
A dear friend of mine is seriously ill. She has been in and out of the hospital for six major operations in the past 5 months. She is there now and finally today she came off of sedatives and was awake. I struggled to squeeze in time to go see her this afternoon. I love her and I’m ashamed that seeing her is not my first priority. I’m ashamed that I put working on my presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with the Tampa Tribune first. I’m ashamed that I put a conference call with people at Harvard who are partnering with us for a workshop ahead of seeing her. I’m ashamed that my deadline for a newsletter article came before her today. What are my priorities? What is going on with my time? I feel like in this drama called life, time is a scene-stealer and robbing me of the joy of being on stage. A dear friend of mine is seriously ill. She has been in and out of the hospital for six major operations in the past 5 months. She is there now and finally today she came off of sedatives and was awake. I struggled to squeeze in time to go see her this afternoon. I love her and I’m ashamed that seeing her is not my first priority. I’m ashamed that I put working on my presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with the Tampa Tribune first. I’m ashamed that I put a conference call with people at Harvard who are partnering with us for a workshop ahead of seeing her. I’m ashamed that my deadline for a newsletter article came before her today. What are my priorities? What is going on with my time? I feel like in this drama called life, time is a scene-stealer and robbing me of the joy of being on stage. Many years ago, I read Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tim Robbins . I remember a character in the book, who I think was called, “Chink”. He lived outdoors on the edge of a cliff, remote from most of life. Hanging from trees around him were garbage can lids of various sizes at different heights. That was his time system. Whenever, they clanged together it was a certain time. His point was that the reason we keep regular time is because life ends and we want to measure how long we are here. If we concentrate more on living life than on the fact that life will end, we will be freer and enjoy life more. I think there is truth to that. I think when we concentrate more on enjoying life, we find ways to live more simply, enjoy our relationships and have more fun. I know that time gets eaten up by making money, having responsibilities for others, and keeping abreast of all the information that inundates us. I remember a simpler time when my Scottish mother worked hard cleaning others’ houses, did her wash with a scrubbing board and hung it to dry on the line, cooked for a family of 5 and two live-in parents. Yet, with all that when she had a sick friend, she took time to cook them a meal and spend hours by their bedside. Maybe life wasn’t more simple, maybe—just maybe--her priorities were different from mine. She put family and friends first. That was her life. I don’t have the usual constraints on my time that so many others do. I work for myself and I work voluntarily on my passion—the Earth Charter. I don’t have young children so their schedule does not drive mine. My loving husband does not have expectations that I will manage my time to suit his schedule. I have no excuses for running through time and whisking past life—including friends and other joyful pursuits. I love my work with the Earth Charter. I am excited by the different things I do that are associated with it—writing, meeting with people, speaking, strategizing and creating. I don’t even usually recognize the losses in my life until like today I am hit in the head with it. But, there are times that don’t knock me so hard and so time kind of slips by—until I look back and wonder where all the time went. I have been married10 years. In that time, I have owned two sailboats. Previously I had taken my boat with an all women crew to the Dry Tortugas. I have always wanted to go with my husband. Have we gone? No. It’s always something that we will do. I would like to spend two afternoons instead of just one afternoon with my grand-daughter. I would like to write letters to people I care about. I would like to be there more for my friends. Of course, I’m not the only one in this boat. I have been trying for three weeks to set up an evening with 4 other women friends to share a bottle of wine and a sunset sail. Just 5 people—not ten or twenty—just five. Everyone is so busy that just getting together to share 3 hours has become a major scheduling headache—even with the benefit of email and fast responses. What’s the answer? I could move to a country where 2-hour siestas are a mainstay of the day and life moves more slowly. But I love it here with my family and friends. I think it is time to rewrite my script and make sure that I share this stage known as life with those I love and doing more of the things that I love. I think I’ll hang some garbage can lids on my balcony. |
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