An Illusion

“Time is an illusion.” Albert Einstein  

I remember hearing my parents and their friends talk about how fast time goes when you get older. Thinking back to those conversations, I see myself shake my head and begin to roll my eyes. These words seemed to be a secret code that’d unlock the door to the vault containing all the most adventuresome tales, true or imagined, of each person seated around the table.

I’ve found a couple of explanations as to why time goes faster as we get older.

Chelsea Handler, in her new book, Life Will Be the Death of Me, has this to say:

“Time speeds up as it goes by. Someone explained to me that there is a mathematical reason for this: as you age, each year becomes a smaller percentage of the life you have already lived. I’m forty-two as I write this. One year now represents a small percentage of my forty-two years (about 2.38 percent). But when I was eight, one year was a really long time; it was an eighth of my life. (This is why summer lasted about four years when you were a kid.) This may be why I now feel an urgency to know more, to do more to be more.”

I heard this explanation of time on one of the local morning talk shows:

When you’re ten, it feels like you are going through life at ten miles per hour. When you’re twenty-five, you’re traveling at twenty-five miles per hour, thirty-five you’re running through your days at thirty-five miles per hour. Today, I’m traveling at sixty-six miles per hour, wishing I could take my foot off the accelerator and coast for a while at fifty-five.

“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?” 

Dr. Seuss

I am…

B…simply being. 

~Peace~

Thank you, Jo Heiple Thedens, for letting me share your photos in my blog. Each photo has its own personality which makes me smile and remember my Iowa roots. 

Ego

“Patience, he thought. So much of this was patience – waiting, and thinking and doing things right. So much of all this, so much of all living was patience and thinking.” 

Gary Paulsen, Hatchet

I’ve had zero patience with myself this past week. My self talk has been especially nasty.

I’ve blamed it on the heat–maybe I’m dehydrated. I’m tired–maybe I need a nap. I did just get home after traveling and indulging in those late conversations fueled by excellent wine and amazing company.

Maybe…

All those ideas are basically old excuses made so I can dismiss the negativity. I’m a pretty quick study and I have that worn out puzzle memorized–connecting all the dots is a snap and in a matter of minutes every uncomfortable question is excused away.

Case closed–moving on.

NOT so fast, girl friend.

I’ve discovered any issue explained in such a neat and easy fashion must be flagged as dangerous. More often than not, I’ve read or heard something that stirred up something in my past that remains hidden in my subconscious mind.

It gets tricky trying to understand what triggered the internal alarm that alerted my insecure and fragile ego. This summer I’ve been pushing hard against all those walls I’ve constructed over the past sixty years. I suspect the answer may be as simple as slowing down some–giving myself more space a little more time.

Right now, at this very moment, I’m thinking it’s time to pour the wine, take a deep breath, and give thanks for all the good surrounding me.

“We can not solve our problems with the same level of thinking that created them” 

Albert Einstein

I am…

B…simply being…

I am blessed and I am grateful.

~Peace be with you~