Time

“I’ve been on a calendar, but I’ve never been on time.” —Marilyn Monroe.

Each of us has a relationship with time. We might bluster through our day, lurching from appointment to appointment, or we might move like molasses, unperturbed.

Society vows “faster” is better. I found a spray called a “sixty-second shower” —apparently, a few good squirts, and you’re good to go. A fast food ad proclaims “Served in nine minutes—or it’s free.”

Carl Honoré is an international journalist, always jetting off to exotic locales—and always battling the clock as he races to file the story. A pivotal moment inspired him to write In Praise of Slowness (Harper Collins, 2004). He was skimming a newspaper between connecting flights, when he spotted an ad for one-minute fairy tales. On the surface, it seemed heaven-sent for a harried father. Then it struck him: why would he want to fast-track that precious time with his two year old?

Consider the language we use around time; we often approach it as a statement of lack, not a statement of abundance. And we equate time to money, that other yardstick of value.
A boss yells, “Where are those reports? Time is money!”
A daughter rolls her eyes and bleats, “Mom, I just can’t spend all day on that!”
Someone else sighs, “My time is stretched so thin right now…”
There simply never seems enough hours in the day.

Except, there is. Consider this: Helen Keller had twenty-four hours in her day. So does Hilary Clinton. So did Mother Teresa.
I appreciate there will always be demands on our time.

What minutes or moments count most in your day?