The passage of time 5/2/22

This coming Sunday we will be leaving Asheville, North Carolina and heading to Tennessee. We will have been here for twenty one days by the time we leave.

On our walk this morning we were reflecting on this time and how - now that we are living on the road full time - we are starting to feel and experience time in a different way. We find ourselves noticing the passage of time in a more acute way, while at the same time we have this overwhelming sense of spaciousness that has never been present before in our lives. This got us wondering why. And asking questions as we walked around the pond, throwing the ball to Brigid along the way.

I once heard Krista Tippet say in a podcast that she often experienced time as a bully. Always demanding things. Always not enough of it to go around.

I remember this really sticking with me. Spending time on it in meditation over the next couple of weeks. Wondering if I too felt this way about time.

I could point to experiences in my life when this had felt true. When my kids were really little and their needs seemed to overwhelm my own need for alone time. When my work life was particularly busy with lots of deadlines and projects coalescing all at once. Moments when I wanted to dive deep into a project but other responsibilities pulled me in another directions. The weeks when we had been on a lovely vacation and the days seemed to slip away too quickly.

But for the most part, I did not have this same sense of time as bully. I could not articulate it beyond that - but I had a sense of gratitude that my days did not pass by feeling like they were being picked on by time and it’s ever present ticking away of the hours of our lives. I experienced time as precious. And my greatest hope was that I could be really present to every sacred moment I had on this planet.

So why this shift in experiencing time now? What was different for us than before?

As we walked, and talked, we started to explore these questions. And a few thoughts seemed to rise up.

First, we noted that when you are marking time in the way we are now- staying some place for a set number of days and then leaving - you don’t leave much to chance. We sit down and figure out what we want to do in the places we are stopping. And then we work out how to fit that in around our work week. We don’t have the luxury of putting it off to another weekend, another day when the weather is better. We remind ourselves that we likely won’t be back this way again - and so the time is now.

Jason in downtown Asheville on the Urban Walking Trail.

Another factor is that neither of us have a commute anymore - or a brick and mortar home to keep up with yard work and such. This has opened up large chunks of time that we now get to use more leisurely. A walk with the dog in the morning. A little yoga before work. Breakfast. We feel less rushed and harried than in the days when we had to be in the car by 6:30am to make it to work on time. Or when the never ending list of chores awaited us when we got home from work. (Have I ever told you how much I don’t like yardwork?)

The same thing goes for our evening transition from work to “home’. We take Brigid on another walk. We have time to sit outside and talk about our days. We make dinner later. We got to bed earlier. Time feels slower and less “full” now .

But the biggest thing that we noted on our walk was how we both feel a sense of accountability to the days that pass in a way that we had never felt before. When you know that you will be in a place for a set number of days, and you had some thoughts about what you might want to do in that time, you are very aware of that when you literally pack up your house and move to the next destination. It invites a time of reflection back on the days passed. You remember the things you said you were planning to do but didn’t.

I remember how I had planned to go sit on that bench by the water and write but I never did. I remember that I wanted to get the kayak out for one paddle but never got around to it. I remember that I had wanted to finish a particular poem. Or get the notes back out for the project I have been working on but never did. I remember how I keep saying I am going to return to learning Italian.

It isn’t that time feels like a bully in these scenarios, instead it begins to feel like a gentle nudge or a persistent friend. And it doesn’t slip away. You know full well where it went. And if we need a reminder we just need to take a look at the elaborate spreadsheet we keep - letting us know where we have been in our travels and where we are going next.

There is a taffy like quality to time that we had not expected when we first set out. It feels stretchy and looser than ever before. We will find ourselves thinking back to a place we have been and realizing it was just a couple of weeks ago and yet it feels like months have gone by.

This morning on our walk I noticed these amazing flowers covering the meadow where we take Brigid to throw the ball. They had not been there yesterday. I stood back to see where they were coming from and noticed them at the top of an exceptionally large tree. (A Tulip Poplar I later found out.) A chunky squirrel was jumping around on the branches and knocking the flowers to the ground. Behind us in the pond were the goslings that had just been born when we arrived. Now lumbering about on their webbed feet - their quickly growing bodies all out of proportion - like awkward teenagers or prehistoric raptors. The Dogwood that was in bloom when we arrived now stripped of any remaining blossoms.

I am not sure what the days and months ahead may hold. We keep making plans for where we are going to be traveling next while at the same time wondering if we will be in the middle of World War III by the time we get there. So far this year has taught us much about the vagaries of time. We have had some big and unexpected losses. We have had a tougher time adjusting than we imagined would be the case. The change to living on the road has cost us in ways we didn’t foresee. And we expect there will be more losses and changes in the future - that is just a fact of life.

But for now - we are present to this moment. We are experiencing time unfolding in a new and unexpected ways. And we are welcoming this change with a grateful heart. Hoping to make it count in some way. Eager to not arrive at the end - whenever that might be - and have nothing to show for the seconds - the hours - we spent on this glorious planet.