Dawdling un-rule #2 is no time, now time.
When we dawdle, we lose track of time, or at least, we stop tracking it momentarily.
(Whether or not time is actually an illusion anyway is another topic, a great one for social dawdling.)
I’ve heard so many creative clients say that one thing they love and fear most about the process of creating art is that they lose themselves in it. They lose track of time and time seems to forget them.
I know this is true for me. If someone calls while I am in the midst of composing, I have a hard time bringing myself out of the music and into the conversation, out of reverie and into, uhm…what day is this? Don’t make me jump from composing to the calendar!
I wonder if this is why we creative types say we want huge expanses of time in which to work; in which to get lost. We dream of a day, a week, a month outside of time. Oh to have the clocks stand still for awhile.
As a child, I naturally dawdled, being so otherwise-attracted to the world around me and the songs within me. I still remember how jarring it was to be called out of my reverie to go somewhere and to “hurry or be late.” Somewhere, I collapsed dawdling and loss of time, even presence, with bad behavior and wasting time.
What I notice now, is that dawdling expands time. It renders the space between the minutes, the space between the hours longer. Presence creates more time.
It follows then, in my crazy logic, that dawdling is a time saver. (Hey kids, try this one at home!)
Whether we are musing internally, observing outwardly, or living at the intersection of the two, time becomes no-time and our awareness of this moment becomes all of time.
On the clock, an hour is an hour. Within me and my experience of life, an hour is all over the time-map.
If I am willing to surrender to dawdling, surrender to the reverie of musing, I am more able to receive the gifts of the creator (whether you read this Creator or creator)
And here’s my favorite part:
In that deep presence there is no judgment. There is no projection of me on to other people I imagine watching me to make sure that I am behaving. With the suspension of time, comes the suspension of the inner critic.
I am free to sing, to twirl, to follow whatever wants to unfold, to free my body to move more naturally. The other day, this meant walking down the driveway in a switchback pattern and I could not, I just could not do it without opening my arms like airplane wings.
I admit it, I felt a little bit shy and a little bit silly.
I admit it, I felt fantastic!
It was not the straight line home.
It was not the most efficient use of my time and energy, or was it?
(Tomorrow, I’ll tell you the story of the snake that told time)
Copyright(C) June 2009, Kathy Loh, All Rights Reserved