Time. It seems so elusive these days. Not only does it feel to be moving faster in big leaps, like summer coming and going in the blink of an eye, but the days tumble over into each other with barely a moment to swallow some air to prepare for the next. There are those dreaded days where as routine as you think it would be, I haven’t given a thought to what I’ll be preparing for dinner. As I commute into work in the morning I have my panic attack – shit, I didn’t defrost the chicken. At that point, I know my day just got a big helping of the old time-crunch. I’ll be paying for my lack of planning with valuable time in a mad scramble to get something on the table.
I’ve taken to getting out of bed earlier than everyone else on the weekends. My “alone” time is what I cryptically call it. When The Man wants me to stay in bed to
have sex cuddle with a I so totally know where you’re going with this passionate “but it’s so nice and warm in here,” I disentangle and take two giant steps away from the bed so I can get clearance to proceed to my space on the couch in the living room. Alone. It’s sinfully delightful, the best part being that although I’m aware of the time, it magically stretches out before me while the rest of my family, including the dog, dozes. With the first stirrings of my youngest daughter (I don’t even see the teen until after 10am), I instantly feel time start to speed up. I desperately type my last words or read my last paragraph or shut down my mindless surfing. Game on. Time to move, like it or not, and I usually don’t like it because I’m rarely mentally or emotionally prepared to give over my alone time.
With my artistic pursuits, time is all about carving out those windows of opportunity to pay attention to that creative part of my soul. It’s much like a feeding time and I get cravings – big time. Work is simply a means to get to the nourishment. My family provides fuel in other ways, but creativity is like sitting down to an all-you-can-eat buffet and gorging. Time is suspended and just being sets in. I’m content and happy. And I’m not even in heels or flirting with young men. Go figure.