Teeter-Tottering in Time’s Domain
The weather smacks of summer, the breezy timelessness of youth strengthened by the sun’s pure will to warm the Earth. Despite the external circumstances, I’ve been breathless since 8 am.
It started when I used my mind as a calendar instead of that actual daytimer I lug about with me.
First call at 11 am. Check. That gives me enough time to run seven errands and be back in time to relax before my first official appointment.
I had miscalculated the time of the call by one hour.
As I tooled down the road, I smugly grinned to myself about how patient I felt driving behind the slowpoke in front of me. That’s when my cell phone jangled. It was a call from Paris. Quick inhale. THE supposed 11 am CALL FROM PARIS.
Oops. I pressed the accelerator, tossed the groceries in the fridge, and hooked my laptop up to reconnect with my Parisian contact via Skype . It seemed my equilibrium, that fragile hothouse flower of flow, was disrupted for the rest of the morning.
Despite my very best intentions, I pushed through until lunchtime with nary a deep breathe in the mix. At one point I managed to recognize squeezing in another phone call to Rome just as the kids were to come home for lunch was not a good idea. My old self would have forged on. My power of slow persona said Nada, lady.
Manifesting flow is easier when you become aware of the grip you try to have on time. Clock combat is incongruent with flow. In fact, it kills it.
It is almost 4 pm and I think I’ve caught my breath. It’s a long way from flow, but as the sun warms my face, I anticipate flow’s sweet return as I do the coming of summer.