Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you
Carl Sandberg
We lay down the layers of our life through the use of our time. Knowing how we want that to be and to be seen by others. Choosing the legacy we will leave. This matters.
Have you ever noticed that dusk brings a particular behaviour for a short period?
During the day, we exist in our offices or our houses, with curtains wide open, blinds pulled up, shutters flung back. The light inside and outside in balance somehow, we seem open to the notion that people might look in, might see us. And that’s ok. There’s a form of equilibrium. Equality of visibility in this balanced light.
Then dusk arrives. We turn on lights inside our homes and offices. But we leave curtains and blinds wide open. The result is the light is stronger inside than outside and people can see in. See us more clearly. We are silhouetted in the artificial lights. More visible. More exposed. So people look, sometimes stare.
Then we draw the curtains, drop the blinds, turn the light off maybe. In essence we hide. Perhaps too exposed now, we retreat, away from prying eyes. And so it stays, until dawn, when we throw open the window ‘shields’ and allow natural light to flood in, safe in the knowledge that we can be seen again, but not clearly seen, not highlighted, not in the spotlight.
And so the pattern repeats.
Maybe it’s like that in life?
Happy to be seen when we blend in, when the light of others equates to our own light? Maybe though when we are in the spotlight, highlighted, more visible, we seek to hide? We set out to draw a veil over ourselves, to become more private, more introverted? We quite literally pull down the shutters.
Instead.
Shine your light.
Hold lightly the sight of others in the soft light.
Life may not be the party we hoped for …
but while we’re here we may as well dance
I’ve been travelling today.
A road journey, along motorways.
Travelling with companions, both in my car and those in other vehicles travelling a similar route. Some joining, some leaving. Some we passed, some passed us. Some moving slower, some racing ahead.
Some we met again and again. That dance you sometimes enjoy between you and another car. Both travelling at a similar speed, but occasionally because of circumstances, they pull out and overtake you. Then, a mile further on, you return the favour. As if two dance partners holding hands, connected in an invisible link, one pulling or pushing the other into a new move, or a different pose.
We pulled off our route for refreshments. As did other travellers. Recharging for the next leg of our journey.
We never know where our fellow drivers are headed. For this leg, clearly we are travelling together. At a future point they may branch off and head in a different direction, as indeed might we. But for now, we travel together.
It’s a bit like life really. All on a journey.
When we hear the sad news of a celebrity or significant public personality passing, it reminds us of our own past. Often our connection is to a shared time – the music we listened to, the films we saw, the events we witnessed.
It is the memories of those days, those shared times, the recollection of our own dim distant youth and the good times therein, that often brings the sadness, the emotion, maybe the tears.
When people close to us pass away, the number of connections is more, the richness of the memories even brighter, deeper, warmer.
It is at these points of passing, that we reflect on our own mortality. When lives end, we pay attention to the passing of our own years. Time slipping away.
Yet life is passing with every moment.
Each passing hour, minute, second is a moment of our own lives; and so many we let go without conscious thought.
So many pass without reflection to their significance; so many pass in the blink of an eye; so many slip away without time to relish their part in the contribution to our own evolution, our own personal learning and growth.
So many pass without awareness to the contribution we make to the richness of others memories. The people we touch. The difference we make. The memory making moments our existence has had, to those around us who will be here long afterwards.
The passing of life isn’t about death, it’s about now. This minute, this moment.
RIP David
We need water to survive.
Depending on circumstances, our life expectancy without water is between three and ten days.
Water is crucial to our very existence. A life giver. It supports the growth of our natural habitat and most of the food we eat.
In fact we are composed mostly of water.
Yet in recent weeks we have seen how much damage water can cause to our way of life. Crushing infrastructure, destroying livelihood, breaking spirit, even bringing death. Floods in the UK are thankfully infrequent, although of course, in some parts of the world, water in the form of storm, tide, flood, sadly takes life more frequently.
Water – essential for life, yet a powerful force that can bring death and destruction.
Water – a live giving life taker; true oxymoron.
Singing someone else’s song is fun… but it’s not your song.
In life, when you stand up to the microphone…
Sing your own song.
Find your own words.
Hum your own tune.
Strum your own beat.
Make your own rhythm.
Voice your own story.
Connect with the hearts, minds and emotions of others through your own lyrics.
Don’t sing a karaoke version of someone else’s life.
Sing yours.
Returning to work after a holiday is…
Well, what is it?
How do you complete that sentence?
Returning to work after a holiday is…
… difficult?
… to be relished?
… depressing?
… a relief?
… a right pain?
… worrying?
I wonder what is to be learned from our transitions in and out of holidays?
The rush to leave. Clearing the inbox. Completing the ‘to do’ list. Handing over. Readying the house or the family for the break. Buying what you need; food, gifts, tickets.
If you are going away, checking you have everything at point of departure (tickets, passports, money etc). Securing the house. Telling neighbours, friends, relatives.
Then the return. Knowing that work will have been piling up. Checking your emails the night before. Anything urgent? Can you clear the junk? Getting your work bag, clothes, technology ready. Dealing with the nervous tension in your stomach. Packed lunch?
First day back. Easy routine to fall back in to. So much to catch up on. Nothing has changed. Tell everyone about your break. Listen to their story. Let it all fade into memory. Focus on the work. Rhythm found.
Until the next time.
Why do we play this game?
Driving a car is purposeful. It would seem strange not to have a destination.
Maybe it is home, work, friends, relatives or a visit to somewhere new? Wherever we are going, we normally know the end point before we set out. Indeed we may plan a route. Maps, Sat Nav or simply a route in our heads, recalled from previous journeys perhaps? Or maybe we simply know the key roads and towns and follow the strategically positioned, helpful road signs?
Along the journey, we speed up, slow down, to match the traffic and conditions around us. We indicate turns so that others on different and similar journeys know our intention. We illuminate the way ahead at dusk when we need to see the road to our destination. We may pause en route to resource and replenish ourselves before setting out again to our destination.
Life isn’t like this.
In one, somewhat morbid, sense we know our destination. But in another we don’t. At birth we don’t know our purpose. We don’t know where we’re going. We have no idea of the route our life will take, or of the turns or stops along the way. We can even be half way, or three quarters of the way through our life journey and still not know where we are headed. Sadly some complete the trip and still never knew.
The drive of our lives doesn’t come with maps in the glove box or a Sat Nav on the dashboard. Sometimes we will swerve without indicating, avoiding collisions or steering away from, or towards something. Sometimes we will slow down, or stop, without brake lights for those around us. Life temporarily on hold, or simply crawling in traffic. Sometimes we will make up the route along the way. Sometimes we will turn back. Sometimes we will find a detour. And what if we pause, but don’t like the place we have stopped? What if our way becomes dimly lit, how will we shine a light on the way ahead? What if our vehicle breaks down and we cannot travel to where we wish to be, in the manner or time frame we would want? What if we don’t have the resources, the capabilities, the fuel to reach our destination? Fill up?
We take journeys and driving for granted. Route, provisions, stopovers, movement, fellow travellers, destination.
We have one life journey, yet many of us meander through it.
No aim. No plan. No route. Accepting places we don’t like. Being and doing something, because we don’t know any different, other than to accept it’s just where we are at the moment, on this somewhat aimless journey. Reacting. Swerving. Braking. Turning. Accelerating.
You wouldn’t drive aimlessly. Don’t drive your life that way.
Pay attention to who you are, where you are going, why you are going there and why that matters. Be authentically you. Be purposeful. Be sure when you get to the end, you haven’t gone the wrong way. Relish the journey. Appreciate the views. Value the experience. Enjoy those you meet along the way.
Time to program your SatNav?
“Until you are aware in the moment of the controls to your thoughts, emotions, words and behaviour, you will have difficulty making changes in the direction of your life.”
illuminated dandelion 