Time is a funny thing. A sometimes slippery, sometimes sluggish thing. On one level, time is what our lives are made of. Time is what allows me to experience my life unfolding, moving, happening, changing.
Intellectually, I know that time is rigid and crisply measured: 60 seconds is 60 seconds, an hour is an hour, a day is a day. And yet, I have a strange, fluid, ever-shifting direct experience of time.
When we planned our month-long Costa Rica adventure in June last year, it seemed so far in the future, it was almost as if it would never come. But of course, it did. Once we left, when we gazed out at a whole month away, it seemed almost like it would never be over. But of course, now it nearly is.
I am doing my best to savor our time here. To be present for this precious, delicious time together in a beautiful foreign place. There are so many things that I am longing for at home: my favorite breakfast, teaching Nia, taking yoga, all my people and my cat (just to name a few). Yet, I find myself in the funny human place of resisting time’s passing. Resisting letting go of the things I love here. Of course I know this is silly. Of course I do.
The slight heaviness and tightness in my heart remains. Silly as it may be.