How many times have you said to yourself or to someone else, “I can’t wait until [this evening? this weekend? this summer? my vacation? my retirement?] so that I will have time to [read? connect with family? do more writing? start blogging? exercise? meditate? finish some projects? have some me time? sleep in? try that new restaurant?].
My “can’t-wait” list might go like this.
● I can’t wait until this evening so that I’ll have time to sit out by the Koi Pond.
● I can’t wait until this weekend so that I’ll have time to start cleaning up the garden beds.
● I can’t wait until this summer so that I will have time to focus more on my Mary E. Wilkins Freeman research.
● I can’t wait until my vacation so that I will have time to bike new Rails-to-Trails.
● I can’t wait to see where reinvention leads me.
Then, this evening arrives. Then, this weekend arrives. Then, this summer arrives. Then, this vacation arrives. And, finally, reinvention arrives.
And, somehow, every time “the time” rolls around that I had waited for, had longed for, had sometimes even wished small measures of my life away for, all of it–every sweet nanosecond of it–seems to fall through my fingers just as quickly and with as much certainty as fine sand falling through the throat of an hourglass.
And then that prized, precious time is up, and I realize that I didn’t have time to get it all done. Sit by the Koi Pond. Clean the garden beds. Do more Mary E. Wilkins Freeman research. Explore new Rails-to-Trails. Reinvent myself.
Can you relate? If you are being honest with yourself, of course you can relate.
Somehow, it seems that we just don’t have enough time.
I could say that it’s a matter of being mortal. And it is.
I could say that it’s a matter of managing time more wisely. And it is.
I could say that it’s a matter of scheduling time better. And it is.
But here’s the thing.
In reality, all that we have is time.
In reality, we all waste an awful lot of time waiting for the right time and dreaming about the right time.
It seems to me that a far better use of our time might be to make the time to do it right then and right there, assuming that we can do it right then and right there.
It seems to me, just as an example, that a far better use of my time might well be to take the time to write my blog post at the very time the idea floats home to me.
That’s exactly what I did on March 12, the Sunday morning when Daylight Savings Time sprang ahead and stripped away an entire hour, and my to-do list was too long to get it done in the time that I had allotted and that I had left.
It was then that this wacky idea softly settled on my brainscape. It was then that I said to myself:
Take time to make time.
And that’s exactly what I did with this post. I took the time that morning to write most of what you’re reading now. Mind you: that was the same day when I had been robbed of an hour.
Writing it–right then, right there–made me feel awfully stoked. Plus, it freed up my bedtime-time to work on other blog post ideas.
I did a couple of other wacky things after I had my Daylight-Savings-Time realization about taking time to make time.
One day, I took time to make time to sit by my Koi Pond not once, not twice, but three times–all in one day.
Another day, I took time to make time to take a long, luxurious tub soak, smackdab in the middle of the day for no reason at all other than I thought that it was time to let the fragrance of Thyme’s Olive Leaf bath salts bathe my memory and let its softness spill over me as I lowered myself lower and lower into the tub, watching my chest disappear beneath the silky smooth waters.
On still another day– and as nothing more than an out-of-the-blue lark–I took time to make time to create from memory–nothing more than scraps of this and that stored away in time’s shapeless storehouse–a calendar of the milestones in Mary E. Wilkins Freeman’s life.
And here’s the thing. Every time that I took time to make time, I didn’t run short on time. I still had time to do everything that I had planned to do.
And here’s the really sweet thing about it all. I didn’t have to wait for this evening. I didn’t have to wait for this weekend. I didn’t have to wait for this summer. I didn’t have to wait for my vacation. I didn’t have to wait at all.
It’s as if the far-away stars and the far-away moons of my wishes, my longings, and my can’t-wait-untils fell down all around me, glowed upon me, and gave me joy as soon as I took the time to make time.
Simple and wise advice.
Thanks, Frank. It’s amazing how much truth can be found in the simple aspects of life.
You asked us to be honest. Well, here’s my confession: I used to make time. Then the pandemic hit, and all of the aftermath of that changed my perceptions and my focus and I lost sight of “my time.” Ironically, I recently have been recognizing this and starting to make efforts to bring back that time, so reading your blog today is confirmation for me that I am on the right path. In order to have time for others, I need to make time for myself.
Your comments please me immensely. I like knowing that something I have written speaks to someone else.
As you continue to make more time for yourself, you will discover–ironically–that you will have more time!
Thanks so much!
I slowly learned this lesson during the pandemic. I recaptured “my time” and made everyday the right day to use the good china/silver. To enjoy coffee on the balcony and afternoon naps on the porch. We opened the wines that I was aging/saving. Use, embrace, indulge and enjoy. Now I have to restock the wine cellar :)
You learned a wonderful lesson.
I love your comment: “Use, embrace, indulge and enjoy.”
Now you have the joy of buying more wine!