Stretched Thin: On Time and Finding Wholeness There
Often it feels like I have both too much and not enough time on my hands. I have so many things I love to do and want to accomplish, but it feels like I don’t have time to fit everything into my life. There are the essentials to adulting—work so I can pay the bills, make food so I can eat, do dishes for God knows why. Then there’s what I want to do to improve myself--working out, lifting heavy things, learning new skills. There's also what I want to do that feeds me—writing, spending time with people I love, getting out in the sunshine. And don’t get me started on the siren song of trash tv.
There’s too much to read, see, taste, explore, learn, so many people I want to spend time with, but many of those experiences get shelved for other more urgent matters. At the same time, when I do have a night off, I can feel anxious, feeling like I’m not doing anything. Sometimes it’s boredom or loneliness or unacknowledged stress from the day, but I have a hard time making peace with doing nothing.
A friend of mine uses this analogy that I return to again and again. She talks about time as malleable, but with limits, like a rubber band. If you stretch your time and extend yourself in one direction, you have to make another direction more slack. If you don’t, and you’re stretched too think, you’re liable to snap.
I want to fill the rubber band with All The Things, but I know that’s not realistic. All too often, I’m tempted to look at my life and focus on the empty spaces, instead of the abundance that lives there. As we finally begin to feel the effects of Spring, I will look for abundance. I will work on seeing the slack as choosing to operate from wholeness, rather than out of fear that I’m not doing or being enough. What fills up your time? Is it time to yourself some slack?