Time
“…time is eternity in disguise.” -John O’Donohue
Another need that arose during my long hours at home was the need to reorient myself to time. Working an 8-to-5 job provided a predictable schedule to the day and the week. Before work, the morning at work, lunch, the afternoon at work, after work. Five days on, two days off. This pattern dictates the pace of the day and the week. When you go shopping, when your children go to school, when you see your friends, when you exercise. However, as I began to navigate full days at home I realized that this format was not helpful, as the natural transitions had vanished.
No longer was I driving to and from work. I lost traffic, but I also lost that sense of distance and space between “there” and “here”. No longer did I feel the swell of an office filling up in the morning or thinning out mid-day as people went to lunch. No longer could I be late for anything. And the challenge of when to start working (or when to stop) was greater than I realized. To start a full day at home with sixteen hours staring back at you can render time meaningless. The invitation, then, was to intentionally make meaningful transitions throughout the day to create a rhythm to my being.
Bill Bruford, a drummer that I admire, noted in his autobiography that rhythm is not so much the notes being played as it is the space between the notes. The difference between being caught in a loop of endless time and feeling the beat of your own life has more to do with what you do between moments and less to do with what you do in those moments. For me, this meant orienting my day less to the clock, and more to the outside world. I adopted routines that would separate the early morning from the late morning, the early afternoon from the late afternoon, evening from night. Something, anything, at 9, 12, 3, 6 and 9 to move along as the day moved along.
Again, I found that the method was less important than the intent. Sometimes it was brewing a cup of tea (most times actually) or calling someone I cared about. Sometimes it was saying a short prayer or taking a short walk outside. Whatever it may be, I invite you to find a way to pause occasionally throughout your day to feel the rhythm of the life around you. Notice how the sunlight in your living room looks different in the morning than in the afternoon. Watch the trees each day as they change with the seasons. Savor the meals you eat and the different ways breakfast, lunch and dinner nourish your body.
May you see time as a friend that walks alongside you, and not as a currency to be spent. May the sunlight lead you in the dance between activity and rest. And on cloudy days may you trust the transitions you have chosen to guide you through the darkness. May you always be aware of where you stand, when you stand and of all those who stand around you. For we all are moving through this time together.