Mountain Time

My car radio has been set to the time of a place in a different time zone. For a year. When daylight savings time came around, I moved the hour—not to my time, but to the one I intended to get to. When I needed to know the time, I’d add two hours from what the clock read. Everyone who got into my car tried to change my clock, but I wouldn’t let them. “I’ll be there soon enough,” I’d say.

Call me nuts, but intentions manifest into reality.

Because here I go, heading to the time on my car radio.

Sometimes we have to remember

This morning, I ate 4 cinnamon rolls, the kind that comes in the tube that you have to smash open. Each bite was less satisfying than the one before, but still I continued eating. The frosting is what kept me going. I got the cream cheese kind because, well duh.

Sometimes, the frosting is what keeps us there, in a good moment. Underneath the mundane reality of a singular moment, is something sweet enough to make it memorable. These sweet moments, although may be short in duration, last long and strong in our memories. Because, it’s not about how recent something happened, but how memorable it was. That’s what matters. Our life is compiled of events. Some of them are sweeter than others, and those are the ones that usually continue to stand out to us over time.

Time is something that goes, always. It will always be there, and it will always be gone, away from us. What we need to remember is not the amount of time away we are from the good moments, but the moments themselves. Because they will always be there. They won’t change, they happened. They may have moved us, stopped us, made us ponder, or made us feel. The fact is that they were there, apart of us. We forget too often about the memories that matter to us. Our present reality is not everything, although a lot of us rely on it for happiness. When we take a look back at our frosting moments, we get another glimpse of something we let live back in our mind. When we bring it to the front, we see and recognize something that continues to be a part of us. Because we aren’t just made up of this moment, but all the moments before. And we should remember that even though the past is where they live, they are still with us, always.

 

Time is

It starts from a point of understanding.

When you realize that what you’ve been waiting for has been waiting for you just the same. Only, you weren’t ready for it. So, it wasn’t ready for you.

Timing folks.

It comes across as a coincidence. For some, it’s something that was destined. It’s how the world works. Timing is what moves us. It’s what pauses us. It’s what we do.

Where does timing come in in the grand scheme of life? Something could be completely right, but it could also be completely wrong if the timing is off. How is that so though? If something is meant to be don’t you think it would always be meant to be? Timing is complicated. It’s messy, often confusing and unknown.

Timing relies on feeling. It’s something that moves through you every day. You decide whether it feels right. You decide what you’ll do with it. Timing is not what dictates us, even though it seems so. Timing presents us with something, leaving us to determine what to do with it, how to see it, how we feel about it.

Some things rely on timing, and so we lean on it. We wait on the time to become, feel, right. Waiting can be necessary or it can be detrimental. We put ourselves through experiences, thinking we are manipulating the timing of it. But what we often mistake for power is actually the true powerless we have against time. We think we know when something is right. We think, but only time knows.

Time is nothing. It’s something we make up. Because, really, we have no idea how much time we have. So we really don’t know how to measure how to spend our time. We don’t know if we are really ready for something because we don’t know if tomorrow is going to be a promise. We don’t know what we deserve, because we don’t know how to measure the magnitude of the life in front of us. We just don’t know. But we try to make sense of it and feel good about it. So we make up this thing called time and let it move us. We hope for the best. That’s what we can do. Against “time”, and the power we give it, hope is what we have left.