Time has love handles

I recently did a ‘time audit’, investigating on the audio book advice of William Holden, if I’ve skipped a meal, stayed late, multi-tasked while driving or on the phone, skipped something that I’ve declared essential for my well being at another time.

I often pull off three tasks in addition to driving. (On a bike, I’m more focused simply because I never mastered no hands biking). And secretly, it’s true if I’m honest, I feel more important when busy and multitasking.

The time I’ve saved from all of this deft corner cutting is likely to correlate directly with my compacted and distracted experience of not enough time. Multitasking may ultimately make me late. So why the rush and blur? Perhaps it makes me feel more important or keeps me from what my heart wants me to see, hear or feel. In Holden’s words, busyness can easily become a status symbol, or a mistaken indicator of success.

Sometimes, I like to ask a client, if you were to die within the week, what would you want to do with your next hour? Such an angle is merely meant to broaden perspective on time, and on your purpose here.

I was recently reflecting on the theory that at the end of your life, you see clips of the moments of your life in rapid succession. What if, it turns out, the clips that are all strung together aren’t the nice ones, but are of every single time you’ve rummaged for your keys? That would be several months worth of rummaging in my case.

So with lots of cars whooshing by to important places outside right now, I am making a stand to do one, or just one or two, things at a time wherever possible today, so maybe my final string of images will be a better show.

Spring, wait – Summer now.

I was sitting under some blossoming cherry trees in the Arboretum a few weeks ago, one of my all time favorite circumstances in life, and have a few thoughts from that moment to share. Already, the blooms have given way to young leaves.

Looking at these incredibly loaded trees, there’s no way of really catching the point of explosion (maybe with stopaction photography, but not while really being there).
This kind of explosion is quiet, a humble magnificence that is suddenly, here. It’s a total abundance that at some point, if you’re lucky, you notice. Like fireworks in amber.

I keep wanting my silver bullet. That point in life where I know everything is all set. All squared away.

Spring is amazement. It is abundance and beauty to be sure, but it’s also slow – not like a bullet – and not *set* in that it’s still moving into something different.

‘Successes’ may be like that: Moments in which you step back from what’s happened, what’s already arrived, which had built up over time or tipped to the point of noticeability. In those instances there may be no catching the specific moment of success, because its a slow build, a slow, graceful explosion.

Whatever pile of money, reward, assurance, symbol, commitment or release that you may be holding up as a holy grail, the ‘if only’ source of everlasting security and relief, perhaps you can put it down for a moment, and see what that moment right now is actually like. What about it is actually ok, or even ‘not bad’ as they say.

These blooms – there’s nothing secure about them – they are vulnerable to the frost, rain, heatwave and winds, and they will and do drop.

Can you imagine that these lovely blooms that many of us dream of and pine for in the long winter days, that these blooms are fruition itself: as good as it gets – the great reward – fleeting and easy to pass up and pass by if your mind is elsewhere.

Taking stock of what you have today – matching socks or a brand new home – something nice in the fridge for lunch, that is a way to spend time in the blooms and surplus abundance of your life. When I am satisfied by what I hope is just around the corner, which might not come, which might not fit my image of it if it does, it’s like saying I am incomplete right now, almost ok but not. Would be wonderful but presently I or this life I’ve got, is not making the grade.

It’s a fine balance to strike, but the more I am rooted to the moment I am in, the easier it is to take in what’s lovely, gritty or wierd about it, and then appreciate the parts I appreciate.

And then the colors change, they drop, the leaves push out and its summer.

Comparison and the timing of two fine films

Comparison: to weigh and measure two things to see how they are different and alike, seems like such a rational thing. And yet, comparison is the henchman of self doubt and insecurity. All one has to do is run across a friend on a beautiful day and -ding!-  comparison begins to happen, innocently in the back of the mind:

What they have that I don’t:
a day off, a house, kids, a yard, a boat, a grant…that shirt, a dog, no kids, bigger paycheck, their own hours, a PhD, more friends, true love, big family, small family, blond hair, blond eyes, black hair, black eyes, a car, no car….a better sandwich….

Or, it goes the other way. In the name of being thoughtful, how easy it is to note the gaps, misfortunes, or cautionary tales of others that subtly can put you at ease (think of Tiger Woods or the guy who cut you off in traffic); or, that whistful utterance ‘I just hope he finds someone….’ Poof! an unbidden dose of smug has entered the building.

It’s that one up, one down activity: a flight of well worn stairs that serves only to exhaust, breeds self doubt or self doubt dipped in superiority. The result is a black and white that is hard edged and not much like reality.

Comparison is like pausing two different movies at exactly the same point in time.

Let’s say there’s an incredible movie. It’s got the beauty, plot, suspense, twists – the laughter and tears of an excellent movie. There are characters we love and we hate, maybe one and the same at different moments; it’s inspiring, moving and thoughtful.

And cued up right next to it is another movie, same high quality, but completely different. In and of itself its a masterpiece, but it’s a completely different movie. The timing in one is completely different from the timing in another.

If you paused both of these movies one hour and five minutes in, and compared what was going on, what might you find? In one, there’d be an incredible celebration going on, maybe topped by a night of unparalleled lovemaking. In the other, there might be a solitary person lost on a lonely drive down a rainy road. Ten minutes later, it might be the reverse. Laughter and sun in the rainy film, and an unwanted pregnancy in the place of celebration in the other. Even if you looked only at the cinematography, the shades of complexity and beauty you might perceive in the saddest moments might make it a scene you’d never want to miss.

When comparing myself to someone else, I am attempting to pause the movie of one life and compare it to the same instance in another’s, to get some handle on how its all going. Truly, there are several thousand better uses of my time.

Noting comparison

When next you feel less than (or puffed up), open a few notches of awareness by noting if comparison is happening. You might say inwardly, ah! so this is comparison. It’s as if you became aware while watching a movie, that you’re in fact watching a movie and are not in it. (Hey! I’m watching a movie!) This awareness of comparison is like becoming aware of your own film playing, and it creates a little space from comparing, so things can relax in the mind. In a moment, something else will happen and you can note that too.

Enjoy the springtime show.

And I’ll now send you out with The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World which expresses it best.