Let me tell you about my relationship with time.
I am a waster of time, or - at least - that’s how some would describe it. I am not very interested in dwelling on time. My sense of time is very skewed when you talk about long periods of time. For instance, I will use ‘the other day’ to reference anything from a day ago to four years ago. Another example is that I’ll reference events that happened well out of someone’s comprehensible time range and then be flummoxed they have no idea what I am talking about.
(I am thinking about a time when I went on and on about how Goldendale was the epicenter for the ‘Harmonic Convergence’ and I couldn’t believe the people I was talking to didn’t remember that until I realized they were four years old at the time.)
On the other hand, during each given day I have an uncanny sense of what time it is. Especially when I am outdoors.
I tried a wrist watch for a short period in high school or grade school and - I don’t really remember my thought process - but I probably ditched it because I couldn’t get comfortable with something around my wrist. I have never been a fan of accessories for myself. (Except that time I wore a homemade “buckeye” necklace for sentimental reasons. I think the buckeye was related to a romantic interlude on the beaches of South Padre Island.)
I thought “time” was everywhere in the ‘90s. Now, time truly is everywhere.
Your cell phone. Your laptop. Your stove. Your refrigerator. Your microwave. Your iPad. Your desktop. Your security system. Your car dash. Your thermostat. If you bought in to Google’s stupid eye ware - your glasses.
Oh, right, your watch.
I guess I have always felt that if you don’t make a big deal about time, you can somehow stretch out the time you have on earth.
I distinctly remember how time dragged on when I was a kid in school. I am sure the suffocation of time I felt then was universal. Watching the enormous clock on the wall ponderously keeping track of the amount of time you would be incarcerated in the classroom. As a school kid, using the term ‘agonizing’ may not do the suffering justice.
Nowadays, of course, I would actually prefer for time to move that slowly. Sometimes I wish there were double the hours in the day.
I haven’t worn a watch since grade or high school. Which, as I said, is not really saying much because you can’t get away from ‘keepers’ of time. Sometimes I require the high school students who sign up for multi-day overnight trips to leave their watches behind. Of course, I always collect their cell phones.
If there is any place you do not need to keep track of time, it is on a river trip. You need to be mindful of dates because the length of your trip is constrained by managing agencies and your food supply. (Beer and coffee supply, as well.) But you don’t need to know exact times throughout each day.
When the sun rises, it’s morning and time for breakfast. And, most importantly, coffee.
When you start getting hungry again, it is time for lunch. Usually the sun is overhead.
Sometime before dark, you probably should get dinner ready. That would be the point where the sun has dropped behind the ridge or canyon wall.
Use your best judgement when it comes to cocktail hours. Of course, that rule doesn’t apply when it comes to high school trips or commercial river trips.
I like the timelessness of days on the river. There is never clock-watching on a river trip. There are never appointments to be kept. There are never ferries to be caught, or traffic to be timed.
I have always believed that time is the single greatest asset in the universe, though I often squander the time I am given. Wait, squander is not the word I am looking for. I use my time as I choose and - for that - I get a sense of freedom I’ve cherished for decades. I don’t always treat my time with the reverence I should and - for that - I have regrets.
My father impressed upon me how much I should value my time in a letter he wrote to me which he rewrote for a column in the Presbyterian magazine. He never wanted me to use my time on loveless endeavors.
My mother impressed upon me how much I should value my time by showing me how to revel in those interstitial family moments that have no other value than the time spent. Time is the only gift she ever sought or wanted.
Both of my parents joined me on river trips and readily adapted to being untethered from societal constraints of time. My mother could have done with better overnight accommodations, rather than sleeping on a pad on the ground, but she loved the other aspects. The camaraderie, the adventure, the time with good people and family. (In hindsight, the cots I use now should have been standard issue for both of my parents since they were both in their sixties when they first took me up on my rafting offers.)
Greg Brown turned the “time is money” saying on its head when he sang, “Time ain’t money, when all you’ve got is time.”
In my opinion, if all you have is time, you’re rich.
Here’s my favorite time expression which gets eye rolls every single time:
Time flies like an arrow.
Fruit flies like a banana.
And this is a nice time quote I just came across:
It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important. – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince.
I like to think this about my writing.