Life is full of expectations, due dates, and responsibilities. I’m a father, husband, full time worker at a nonprofit organization, and a video and design freelancer. And I write. Sometimes. When I can push the words through my brain like meat through a grinder. Continue reading
So we filled our cups to the brim with hatred. And we cast ignorance upon you if you didn’t agree. And with any misstep we wouldn’t bury you, but you felt six feet under. We’d take your job, your reputation, and – if an apology was granted – your soul as well. And you would be the cautionary tale that we would spin cycle in our 24 hour news coverage. And the pundits would bemoan your mistake, and assassinate your character, and impugn your very existence. Because we were right, and we always would be. And you would be wrong, and you would be evil, a relic of an ancient past full of pagan ritual and superstition.
My daughter turned one week old today. Her lifespan could still be easily calculated in hours (over 168 as of 5:32p.m. this afternoon), days (7), and now week. I was having a conversation with a fellow dad, one who has been on his journey five years longer than I am. We were talking about not having time and having it at the same time.
It seems to me that these early stages of my daughter’s life are marked with an abundance of half-measured time for me. I can occupy myself with little things, but my time is also occupied with her needs. It has made me more aware that my life has always had half-measure time. I have always let my time be tied down to various anxieties and activities. Whether I’m at work thinking about my writing, or, at home thinking about my work; my life is occupied in various spheres.
Like filling a bucket, we only have so much time to occupy with our energy (liquid), but are we filling it efficiently?
I am not sure, but I do know being aware is the first step toward finding better uses for my bucket.