Often times we feel like the day drags on endlessly. Seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. The very thought of an hour for children can make them cry. It used to make me cry. We impatiently wait for the time to pass so that we can move on. However during our waiting we insist on doing nothing. As my old teachers would say: Being a lump of flesh. (It came from an Ulysses poem.)Other days it feels like there is not enough time. It seems like the more you rush the faster time goes. The harder you try to beat it impatiently, the more time seems lost.
Sometimes we succumb to the time and decide that there is not enough of it to accomplish our goal. We then convert our energies to frivolous and wasteful things that don't really benefit. While willing the time to fly we often find that if we had actually tried we could have accomplish our goal.
The days of wasted time haunt us by presenting the same ordeal the next day, and the next, until we finally decide to do it. There are even times when we can't make it up, just because we did not seize the moment.
We can never fully make up for the time we have wasted, because no matter what we do, it is gone.I imagine if I were given back all of the time I wasted that I would gain quite a bit of my life I hadn't realized I'd wasted. It may even extend my life by weeks, months, possibly even years. I imagine a package, wrapped up neatly, arriving on someone's doorstep with a note: Here is all the time wasted given to you as a gift of a baby, who will live a full life with these many wasted seconds, minutes, hours, and days. Take care that this baby does not waste its time as well, because once it wastes its time, it loses time for their life to be given to a worthier baby. I know it sounds ridiculous, but yet I see the picture, and all the time being spent, carefully, and it ticking away like sand in a timer.
So many people say, when they are old or dying, that they wish they hadn't wasted so much time.
The regret of wasted time has already hit me profoundly at a young age. I can not begin to imagine my heartache when I am older when I realize once again the misuse and loss of my time.
I plead with myself, and with you, to realize what could be done with all time spent being "bored." I ask: Is it good, better or best? The next step is to follow through once it's figured out, even if the answer is undesirable. Will I ever be a master of time? Or will it always sift through my fingers, retaining only a few pebbles in my palm... Someday maybe I will be a master. Today, I am an infant. I continue my journey of growth, and I invite all whose hearts this has touched to join me as well, because with all of time going against us, a larger mass will stand stronger against the cascade than one poor soul. Please... time is ticking away.
