Time has changed its meaning for me.
Earlier it used to come, dressed snappy and sharp, as days of the week…
Mondays? Those days that look like mini New Years – where all the resolutions are made. The decisions to change. To get into this habit and get out of that one. Armed with self-determination, putting that chin up – going into the Monday feeling like a warrior on a border and not another girl revving the car to work.
And then comes that Thursday. Like a flower, that has had its day of blooming and is ready to curl up and sleep – waiting for Friday. The fun Friday evenings where the mind counts 1 – 2 – ah, there’s time. Those twilights of unwinding to a tall glass of juice, some cheese and crackers and definitely the conversations. Not to mention the music.
Time has changed its meaning for me.
If you ask me what day it is, I will need to think. Connect something to something in my mind, “On Wednesday I had that talk – and one day has gone so today must be Friday.”
Time seems to be stretching out before me – unclothed.
Uncluttered.
Filled with possibilities.
It seems to be asking me, “Here I am. At your service… tell me, what are you going to do with me?”
Time – I had fought for it. I had begged for it. I had craved for it. And suddenly, now that I have more of it than I can imagine, I find myself watching it with my mouth agape.
Time has changed its meaning for me.
It’s strange but I also find myself slipping into the past more often in this period. Not the recent past – just before the pandemic. The past, past. From decades ago. Memories of me twirling around in a small frock as my mother went about her work, keeps coming. As does lying under the stars on that rusted water tank on my terrace. Or that trip to the highest peak of snow, where we stomped our feet and giggled to keep ourselves warm.
I also find myself daydreaming of the future. Though I must admit, its undefined. Blurry. The world has changed, says everyone and through the mask I am only able to see bits and pieces of the face of the future. I am not afraid. Things look uncertain – unknown – but not impeding. A change, but strangely, a welcome one.
Time has changed its meaning for me.
I am no longer counting time by months. Or weeks. Or even days and hours.
Time seems to have shrunk into a walnut in the palms of my hands. It’s become a moment. This one, right here.
If there is one thing this entire phase has taught me – it is to be here.
To be present.
To breathe in, breathe out.
To watch the play of thoughts, to listen to the night skies.
To chew, what I bite.
To look into the eyes of the person I am speaking to.
To be aware of the sensations in my body – from that niggling ache in the left knee to the flow of subtle energy around me.
Time no longer seems to be the boss of me.
Or a threat.
It’s simply sitting – allowing me to be.
And I am…
Being, that is.
And strangely, Just Being, seems to be one of the best uses of time indeed.
Time has changed its meaning for me.