This morning, after a long week that yielded me only a few hours sleep, I woke up at nine. Sure this sounds late I realize, but not when you have to be at work by eleven, with a two hour drive in between.
When I lived in Danvers, I would look at the alarm clock and press the snooze button, and bask in the luxury of time for a few minutes. What I realized today, is that really, we have no time left.
When I lived in Danvers, I would look at the alarm clock and press the snooze button, and bask in the luxury of time for a few minutes. What I realized today, is that really, we have no time left.
525,600 minutes. That's all the time we get in one year. How many minutes do we spend sleeping? Eating? Working? Commuting?
Far too many times we get caught up. Our daily commute, people passing, barely glancing, toll booth operators and our "have a nice day"s; when will we mean it? Is this all that anyone has worked for? To be content to go about our activities without so much a glance at what we may be missing?
On our hike on Monday I called Thera a shameless romantic when she took a picture of a pink flower growing alongside the trail. It made an artistic shot: it's pale pink leaves struggling to contrast with the dark brown of dead, rotting pine branches.
Shameless romantic. What a waste of film.
And yet finding out later, the pink lady's slipper we photographed was endangered, and the picture she took may be one of the last images ever taken of the precious flower.
How many minutes will you spend connecting with those you love; spending time with friends, spending time in reflection?
How will you measure your year?
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