I find the concept of time somewhat amazing. It’s really nothing more than a human perception. We feel comforted by the tick-tock of the clock, or the passing movement of the minute and hour hand. “What lies ahead?” “Were almost there!” “Is it time to eat yet?”
When you think about it, time really serves no purpose. It’s simply a marker to tell us where we are in life. “I’m getting old.” “It’s time to sleep.” “It’s time to brush my teeth.” “I’ll be 37 on my next birthday.”
I’ve always been obsessed with time. I have a collection of school clocks, each clock perfectly synchronized to the master clock, which is in turn synchronized to the atomic clock. Those clocks that aren’t in the collection are still calibrated to change with the school clock collection. There is no flashing “12:00” on my VCR.
When I worked for ARC (Association for Retarded Citizens) back in the late 80s and early 90s, I worked a shift that started on Tuesday at 2:00 p.m. and ended on Thursday at 3:00 p.m. Time was very important to me. In the back of my mind, I knew precisely how much time I had left before I was home again. Before I was free.
Last night was a particularly rough night of “on call” for my current job. Now that I think about it, was I making it harder on myself because at that time, I should have been asleep? Did my body suffer because I didn’t sleep at the proper time? Granted, my ass is dragging a little bit today because I slept for a total of four hours in ragged increments. Would I feel so lethargic today if I didn’t obsess about time? Is my sleepiness because of my brain telling me I didn’t sleep the right amount of time or because my body didn’t get a chance to build up the proper amount of energy and do it’s housecleaning?
Honestly, I think it’s a combination of both.
I’m going to try to live in the “now”. No worrying about what lies ahead or what’s left behind. I haven’t got the time for it.