I wish had a time machine.
One where I could stop time for just myself. I could work. I could create. I could sleep. And then, when I step back into the spinning world, I would spend new time with those I care for in a most enjoyable and leisurely way. Oh, I could give so much more!
In the machine I could learn! I could learn between the minutes to be better prepared for the next. To improve. To grow.
It’s the biggest cheat I ever wished for.
Of course, I would greedily want more; I’d next take people I love along into the magic portal where time couldn’t touch us.
We’d create stories, music, and other art. We’d travel to spots of inspiration. We’d play. We’d walk. We’d rest. And then, again and refreshed, full and bright, enter back into the spinning world.
Surely this magic path would return to each cell every moment it takes.
Ah…are there any moments in real life that stop the world from spinning?
I wish time stood still on cold winter mornings, when it’s warm in bed. Just hit snooze on the time instead of the clock.
This year, I’ve been publishing articles on a publication called Speaking of Time. It’s focused on best practices for business leaders, managers, and other humans.
However, maximizing our time is not just a work issue. It’s not just a productivity issue, either. It’s very personal. Both in best choices and unique challenges.
For example, carving the time to spend with my nephews is my challenge, but rejuices me every time. (Spellcheck says that’s not a word; I say it is.)
Oddly enough, live theatre and live football both charge me in unique ways, connecting me to the universe while somehow also bringing forward distinctly personal reactions.
I wish the quiet moments gave me better peace and strength. As I confessed before, my mind continues like the hummingbird, I do not still well.
Sometimes time drags, but doesn’t have the mercy to stop. Every moment sludges on when things are hard, too hard, and everything is heavy and long. This year began that way for me.
Then there are the glorious experiences when we lose track of time, surrender ourselves to an endlessness. For me, when I’ve taken the space and time to create new worlds, immersed in all of the beauty and fears, emotion and possibility, coming from within me to the page – time became meaningless while also universal, my purpose and my mission were one in the same. It didn’t matter how many hours were taken, the only thing that mattered was creating. (Sigh…Suddenly I’m jealous of my past, and yearning for that space.)
But that’s not when time stood still, no it marched on and the work took hours, days, and years.
Can Time Stand Still?
So, what in our real life, gives us a sense of “time stands still,” in a good way? In a way that our very soul holds in its place, our mind and body don’t deteriorate, maybe even cells and self regenerate, during those key moments.
The stillness of time…
I think comes with the deep breath you take when you’re leaving work and notice a glorious sunset.
The Ahhh moment when you open the curtains and the snow is falling in big, fat, snow-globe flakes.
The times you’ve stared at your child sleeping in your arms. Or The first time you meet your grandchild, or nephew, or brother…
Time, of course, doesn’t stand still, but you do.
You still for one moment to connect to the wonder.
There it is; I knew we’d find it.
Well, that’s what I think. What about you? What in your universe brings time to a standstill?
Share in the comments or tell us long form and write to the FTSF prompt, wherever this photo takes you, or to the title, “Time Stands Still.”
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