Time is the enemy of our synapse-challenged world. This beast is always just a step behind us. And we keep losing ground as it nips at our heels and bears its sharp fangs. Time, indeed, becomes an enemy.
We tap on the brakes to try and slow down, but even the vacations and weekends aren’t always terribly relaxing.
We attempt to break apart our days into manageable segments or, as the poet T.S. Eliot once wrote, “Measure out our lives with coffee spoons.”
We often experience time as a force outside of ourselves; as if the clicking clock on the wall or watch on our wrist had its own personhood that nags at us: “Do this not that, wait, what about that other that?”
As Will Rogers once wrote, “Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we’ve rushed through life trying to save.”
