Time is often called a taskmaster. Some call it a tyrant. But time, as we have come to regard it, is a fiction. Time doesn’t need to be measured, but it does keep ticking. Time does not march on, we do. We travel the path of time, but at our own pace.
Time does serve a purpose, like gold refined in a fire, it is a crucible of character.
When I let time dictate my actions, feelings, and attitudes, I, and those around me lose. When I walk the path, according to the pace of my own choosing, I walk in peace. Finding the balance between planning, responsibility, and purity of conscience is a delicate act of survival. Letting time have it’s way in my life is the fastest way to death. Ignoring time, and it’s claustrophobic constraints leads to a life of freedom and serenity.
As I wrote yesterday, it is often too easy to be crushed by an artificial timeline, and overbearing sense of responsibility, and a hopeless sense of powerlessness. This impotent feeling is artificial, imposed by an obnoxious enslavement to time.
The one thing time has revealed to me however is the impoverished nature of my character. I am often too quick to submit my values to the tyranny of time. It’s time to put time on the back burner where it belongs.