I’m reading about being middle-aged in my Human Development class.  While reading about the physical changes, I started feeling my heart palpitate, and I realized that I was worrying about how I’m going to feel and look and live in twenty or thirty years.  It may seem like that’s so far away from now, but I haven’t failed to notice just how quickly the last 27 years has gone by.  It seems like every day flies through my experience, only for a moment, and then, it’s GONE.

Time is one of those strange things that we as humans have created as a constrict of our experience.  Some cultures don’t measure time, but most do.  Time is a way for us to keep track of our experiences, a way for us to place value on every year that goes by.  We celebrate birthdays, wake up to alarm clocks, and can lose our jobs if we do not embrace time constraints.  Time is never relative.

Being patient is a big part of how we experience time.  One must never be patient for anything if we do not have time limitations.  What does it matter how long we sit in traffic, if there is no time?  All that matters then is how much gas we use, what we allow our brains to think, and whether or not we get to our destination safely.

As much as I realize that time is a human construction, I fall prey to feelings of eagerness or some days anxiety, or as in today, panic, over how much time we have.  Once again, this comes down to our fear of death, our fear of life…

It is our culture that places such importance on time.  It is US– WE, who create time barriers.  It makes me question everything I’m doing in this lifetime– this limited amount of experience I have here on earth with you– as to whether or not I can feel comfortable with how much time I’ve put into the things I’ve handled as priorities.  It makes me wonder if everything is worth it.  Have I put enough time into my relationships?  Have I put enough time into my family?  Have I made poor decisions when it comes to wanting my own family, my own children?  Is putting this much energy into school so that one day I might become a doctor– one day in my middle-aged practice, where I will finally make enough money to support myself and my priorities, and THEN I will be satisfied with the decisions I’ve made so far?  

Our culture puts a lot of emphasis on marriage and family.  Our culture has again and again tried to push me in the direction of child-bearing and being a “good woman” simply by asking me, “What do you mean I won’t have grandchildren?”

*sigh*

It is the very nature of time that gives me all these things to think about.  I wrote earlier about perspective, and how perspective is the one thing we can choose– the one thing that invariably changes our experience.  I have consistently had the same perspective on time in my past: I am doing the best I can with what I’ve got.  I work hard.  I show good moral character.  I put 110% effort into everything I do.  I embrace my relationships with people.  I am kind, gracious, and compassionate.  I don’t believe in hell, and don’t know what happens when we die, so therefore I will put no energy into thinking about it…

Time…

Even with my convictions, I still find it necessary to panic over what unknown amount of time I have left here.  Inevitably, I will continue doing as I’m doing.  I just wanted to share with you that I questioned it.

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