Has there ever been a time when you felt you were “racing the clock”?
Has there ever been a time when that incessant ticking beside you was so loud you couldn’t think?
Has there ever been a time you have wanted to “kill time” or “make time stand still” so you could catch up or have a reprieve from the constant pressure to produce?
As a woman who has walked through the shadow-full valley of burnout not once, not twice, but three times – I have a sense of how deadly serious this issue can become. For those who have never felt the world turn from vivid colour to grey-tone, let me say it is not a “pull yourself up by the boot-straps” kind of fix.
In fact, there is no “quick-fix” at all. For me, each time, it was a slow and gradual revival that was initiated by getting some deep and restful sleep. From there it was a one-day-at-a-time period of self-care and compassion; the weeks and months to recovery seemed like forever.
What is it that precipitates this loss of perspective on life?
How do we lose track of the wisdom that we have all the time we need, to do the things we need to do?
I’m still discovering this for myself, but one thing that has become clear is that the time-bomb is not external to me. Like the crocodile that swallowed the clock and tracked Captain Hook, I too have swallowed some idea of what time is and let it foster fear in both me and others.
Cough it up. Consider the alternative…
I’ve decided to give up the perception that the annoying little contraption of alarms and bells is keeping me on track; I am going to trust that I am where I need to be right now, without the screeching sirens. It’s a new idea to me to let time be what it is – just a measure of moments, not the defining hourglass of my life and certainly not the expression of who I chose to be.
Here’s my new take on time: breathe and watch the sundial if you must, but from a beautiful patio and without concern for how long the shadows take to fall. In time they will, and there is even more splendor in the twilight and the sunrise. Time does move on and from this vantage point it has a lovely, paced way of becoming a season, rather than a collection of frantic seconds. Cherish this suspended sensation and be present. Let the pendulum swing and time take care of itself.