Time … we made it up, you know. We determined how the days and weeks and months were chopped into tiny segments of seconds and minutes and then became slaves to a tiny small face attached to our wrist.
When I was traveling across the Midwest, my phone changed and the time on my car remained the same: I was in two time zones. I asked myself, “Does anybody really know what time it is”? (Older folks can start humming now!)
It seemed like only a few days ago the children raced towards summer and a few months of freedom from time. Parents could relax schedules and take a deep breath. Now it’s time for school to begin, followed by the fall and the winter to come. Each day the sun sets a little earlier.
In 2014, when I walked across the Midwest, time did not matter. I ate when I was hungry, found a spot to land when darkness approached, walked when the sun rose and lived with the rhythm of nature. It was profound for me, giving up my shackles to time.
Today, I find myself longing for that freedom, the ability to allow my body and nature to guide me into ways of being that are in harmony with the world. Like the cry, “school’s out,” it seems so long ago.
I am wondering how I can retrieve the sense of being outside time, giving up the story of time.
Well, friends, only time will tell -- or so I’m told.
I’m Lou Ness, and that’s my perspective.
