If only time could be measured visually, kinesthetically, we might be less inclined to squander it. If we were issued time coins at birth, 24 for each day, 720 to be used in a 30 day span – with those unused or used unwisely to be taken away – perhaps it would be easier to understand that time is a limited resource.
All but the wisest share a human flaw: thinking that time always waits for our filling of it. If we waste it today, we can do better tomorrow. And yet, for every single human being, every one of us reading this post, the reality is that a day will come when there will no longer be a tomorrow. Our supply of time will be cut off; our banks will be dry.
All but the wisest share a human flaw: thinking that time always waits for our filling of it. If we waste it today, we can do better tomorrow. And yet, for every single human being, every one of us reading this post, the reality is that a day will come when there will no longer be a tomorrow. Our supply of time will be cut off; our banks will be dry.
I wonder how many people come to their death beds wishing that they had tried an adventure that had seemed too risky or too expensive? How many leave unfinished projects.? How many leave broken relationships? Surely, if we understood – and truly appreciated – the nature of this mysterious element, we would strive to take better care of it.
It is so easy, in retirement, to fall into habits of procrastination, putting off until later what can be done now.
In considering the limits of time, I am, of course, trying to convince myself to make better use of it.
My retirement has opened up areas that were, in the past, covered with busyness. The fact that I find housework boring was easily disguised when my career made me too busy to pick up the dirty socks and unload the dishwasher. When I was working, I could not learn a new skill or test to see if I really did have an undeveloped talent because my job, I told myself, took all my energy. I never needed to deal with boredom when I spent each day in a classroom filled with teenagers.
The career is finished, and, in comparison, I do have more free time and could be involved in the development of new talents, not to mention being the owner of a spotless house. Boredom should not be a problem. But, if I analyze how I choose to spend time, I discover a disconcerting fact: I would rather put off disagreeable tasks, and, worse, I would rather avoid taking risks even to develop a new skill. I no longer have career busyness as an excuse, but I have found other methods to put off confronting chores and challenges.
Now, watching TV helps me ignore the dust gathering on the TV stand or the streaks of dirt that mar the screen. Today, still afraid to learn that I cannot (write, paint, learn to dance), computer games help me avoid finding out for sure, occupying my brain and my time with rows of Solitaire cards or scrambled Scrabble letters. And if I am bored, an afternoon nap offers an escape.
I comfort myself with an image of a different me, an artist, a traveler, someone with a rich life, but I am daydreaming about this other self rather than working to bring her into existence. I must ask myself why I am content to put off until tomorrow the person I want to be? What do I fear? What prevents me from becoming this person I desire to be?
The first step, I believe, is to recognize and then to put away the avoidance techniques, turning off the TV and getting out the vacuum, turning off the computer games and beginning a new piece of writing or a painting, taking a reflective walk instead of a nap.
Finally, I can change if I face this one truth about time: time is limited, finite. If I am to have a satisfactory retirement, I must prize it, and fill it with worthy, fulfilling purposes.
9/22/2014