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Time standing still

030191

Patience. Sitting still.  Living in the moment.

Today I could feel my gut tightening; jaws clenching.  I was impatient.  On Monday morning we experienced technical issues at work and quickly realized; we are incapacitated without our front desk computer.  The busy-ness at the business came to a stand still as the hard drive sputtered.  The screen went dark as numbers (kernels) furiously spewed forth and black screens slowly changed in a continuous loop.   We could not even view our hard drive through safe mode.

For the second day, I sat.  I exhausted various apps on my smartphone, read an e-book excerpt and quickly completed non-work related paperwork.  I thought of the various projects I could be doing; time was being wasted as I  fumed.  Some of my biggest pet peeves revolve around the clock: not arriving on time, people consistently late, wasted time.

When I was given Gardner’s multiple intelligences test, I was surprised my modality of learning was bodily-kinesthetic.  I assumed I learned best either, linguistically (words and language) or musically (music and sound).  But no;  I need movement.  I needed to be on the go; doing something.  Acts of services and “works” are my modus operandi.  Time was, once again, getting away from me and my lack of productivity was pissing me off!

It took a lot of restraint, on my part, to not take out my frustration at home.  My mind began to wander as I thought of ways I calmed myself down and, funnily enough, the one thing that brings me back my sanity is cleaning my toilet bowl.  Whenever Dave was to leave on a trip or deploy I would launch  into a cleaning frenzy.  It made me feel like I had some control over life.  And the a-ha moment flashed before me.  My current uber-organizing quest is because I feel like life is getting away from me.  I am driven by the clock.

As I sorted through my computer picture folders I fell upon the ones above, taken this summer while camping in northern California.  The sky and time were endless and, for seven days, I watched my sons lazily float downstream.  Don’t they get bored doing it day after day?  Why won’t they climb rocks or go hiking?  I snapped my pictures, behind the camera lens, thinking these thoughts.   I came upon the picture of Snuggles, our dog, and myself taking a picture through the rear view mirror of the scenery flying by.

I am always cataloging my life through the lens.  I try to freeze it in time; but am I really living in that moment?  Can I say that I’m living in life or am I a detached observer creating the memory I want someone else to see?  Can I slow it down, camera in its case, and be an active participant?  And do I have to do it, hitting the pavement, running? 

Time will tell.

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