I cannot believe that it is almost the end of February already!
How is that possible? Time is falling through my hands like sand, or salt water. Only yesterday we woke up to a new year. How did we get from there to here without me noticing?
This makes me feel a little panicked. I want it to stop. I want it to slow down. Time is a train hurtling into the distance and I am stumbling behind it on the tracks. “Wait! Wait for me!”
Every sunrise marks another 24 hours that have passed me by. What did I do with those 24 hours? Will I even remember them?
I read somewhere (I have been starting sentences like this a lot lately) that the reason time feels so much slower when we are younger is because as children, we are still learning. Everything is new and exciting. Children are still filled with awe and wonder. Things like dew drops on a blade of grass, the intricacies of a spider’s web, the sound we can make when we blow air through pursed lips, the simple act of clicking our fingers; these things still fascinate children. They still ask why. They stop and inspect and want to know how. Gradually, as we figure out all the hows and we find answers to all the whys (at least we think we do), we become jaded. Life becomes predictable. Routine. Nothing is new anymore and we stop learning. That train hurtles on and 1 January becomes 23 February without us even realizing.
Fortunately, by being conscious and mindful we can slow the train down. We can endevour to learn something new every day. We can take a break to marvel at a sunset, or a full moon, or something smaller like the way the ground feels beneath our feet.
I was watching my niece play in the garden once. She was four at the time. She was inspecting the flowers, taking time to smell each one when she stopped suddenly. She closed her eyes and stretched out her hands and paused like that for a while. I asked her what she was doing.
“Shh!” she replied, “I am feeling the wind.”
I think we can slow down time if we stop and feel the wind.