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The
Time is Now
by Elizabeth Bussey
Sowdal | |
The
battery on my watch died. I mourn. You may not think that this is a very big deal
and I guess that you are right. But in my little earthly niche it is a big deal.
I am usually fairly busy and my time is often squeezed into a schedule tighter
than one of Madonna’s bustiers, the décolletage of my hours and minutes right
there, unapologetic and in my face. Time as cleavage. I like it!
So? The
battery has died, big tragedy. Just hop on over to The Store and have it replaced.
Only I am not hopping anywhere of late. I am not able to drive and that means
I can go anywhere I can walk anytime I want, but does not include The Store. For
that I have to wait until my husband/driver gets home. He would take me if I could
remember to mention it. But it is soooo exciting when he gets home after a whole
day of keeping myself company. I get to listen to news of the outside world where
people are employed and get to talk to other people. And I get to share the exciting
events of my life too; my range of motion, what was on the All Tearjerkers All
the Time Channel, what I ate for lunch. Oh the drama! Oh the excitement!
In
the midst of all that catching up and early evening excitement I never remember
about the watch until it is too late to go to The Store. I sigh. Oh well, I will
be sure to remember tomorrow.
Remember I do. At regular intervals all
through the night. After two separate stints working the night shift I usually
wake up every hour or so during the night, look at the time and quickly calculate
how much longer I have to sleep. I love to do this! My husband thinks I wake up
that often because I am roused by the thunder of my own snoring, but he is wrong.
I love to know that I have five whole hours left to sleep, four whole hours left,
you get the picture.
I told a friend about my watch battery dilemma. Well,
truthfully, I told everyone I know about it, but she was the only one of them
who managed to cling to consciousness long enough into the conversation to catch
it. Evidently, my range of motion is not exactly riveting information to most
of the people I know. She had an interesting suggestion.
"Time is meaningless,"
she opined, "The only time is now! Get a permanent marker and write the word NOW
on your wrist to remind yourself of that." She is very philosophical. I thought
that she might have a good point. Maybe I have been too caught up in what time
it is to appreciate what is going on around me. Of course, I do live in the modern
world (when I am not broken) and people like my boss and the dentist do, by necessity,
care what hour and minute it is and expect me to care about it too. Just imagine
if I sauntered in to work one day an hour late. "Just living in the ‘now’ ma’am."
Huh?
Still, I think that my friend had a good point. I need to spend more
time appreciating what is happening right now, this minute, and less time worrying
about what is going to happen in an hour and twelve minutes. When I am sitting
in the sun basking like a lizard I will get more enjoyment and benefit from it
if I am not checking my watch every minute or so and telling myself, "Five more
minutes, four more minutes, three more minutes." It might improve my communication
with my children if I stop and listen to them without interrupting and saying,
"I have to leave in seven minutes and fourteen seconds, what else do you need
to say?" The answer to that (surprise!) is always a resounding, "Nothing."
As
this stupid broken arm has taught me not to run on the stairs, maybe my dead watch
will teach me to slow down a little in other ways. Maybe I will learn to worry
less about what is going to happen in seventeen minutes and appreciate what is
happening right now. Right this very now. | |
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