Time

The bad news is time flies. The good news is you're the pilot.- Michael Althsuler

I am a morning person, in case you haven't figured that out yet from my obsession with sunrises. My favorite time is actually pre-dawn, regardless of what time that is, when the sky just begins to lighten and the temperature drops to it's lowest point in the day. When I am asked what time I wake up (around 4:30-5:00 am if you are wondering), I am almost always greeted with a response that varies between confusion and pity. I guess they just don't understand that those early hours are precious, because they are my time. All mine.

I say this as if I could possess time. We don't own time, or have time or give time really. We actually label it with minutes, second, hours, and years, but it doesn't change or stop or speed up. We judge it by good or bad, we curse it when we feel it is running out and we are slaves to it. It feels like the only time I am able to release myself from those labels and judgements that we assign to time is when I am outside, freely and just for the joy of being there.

My family includes a dog, so I go outside several times a day to care for her. That isn't the outside time I am talking about. Part of my work day includes standing outside, in the middle of traffic as a matter of fact, but this isn't what I am talking about either. I am talking about a commitment I make to let time be irrelevant, or at least not as important, for a short time each day so that I can understand things beyond me. Things like trees that grow for hundreds of years or insects that live for 24 hours or the heavens that existed before there was even an earth for humans to live on. It puts into perspective my10:00 am meeting and the impossibility of fitting a trip to the grocery store into a Tuesday evening. It is a chance to appreciate the precious space I have been given here.

Getting older has definitely changed the way I perceive and value time. I can now actually envision the end of my time and I have experienced people and chances that slipped away before I was ready to see them go. That sliver of my day that I consciously put aside to be outdoors helps manage the feelings that come with the fear of unknown time left and missed opportunities. For a few minutes (or a few hours when I am lucky), I am only THERE, at that moment and in that place. I don't think I could do this indoors, and frankly, I don't want to even try. Nature never fails me.

It has been a rough week. I know, they are all rough if you let them be, but this one had some challenges I would like to forget. As I write this over coffee at 5:27 am on a Sunday and plan to take my 20-30 minute run in a little while, I am reminding myself that the run is timed, not the experience outside. I can stay there for as long as my spirit needs. I can ignore time for a little while. I can feel and forget and appreciate. I can heal the rough edges. The thought makes me smile.

Reminder to self: take time to go outside. Every. Single. Day.