Right now there are seven billion, two-hundred thirty-one million, five-hundred eighty-six thousand, seven-hundred and forty-one people in this world. Some are running hysterically to catch their 3:00 pm flight as they cuss traffic or any other inconvenience that caused their delay.
“Bloody hell! I should have asked the taxi to come earlier. I shouldn’t have stayed longer at my brother’s house. Time flew by so quickly and now I’m going to miss my flight!”
Others are desperately chasing a deadline they should meet for a job they dislike to keep paying for their mortgage.
“Maybe if I started on this project earlier I would have had more time to work on it. Perhaps even more time to iron my suit for this damned presentation. More time to have my usual morning coffee. Time is running and I’m going to screw this deal up!”
Somewhere in this world, there is a teenager frantically searching for her favorite top before she is late for her date, deliberately ignoring her mother’s calls from downstairs.
“Where the hell is it? Gosh mom stop fucking yelling I don’t have time for you, I’m going to be late! And where the hell is my wallet dammit?! I can’t afford to lose more time looking for that too!”
And somewhere distant from the entire chaos and clamor of this fast pacing world is an old man sitting on his wheelchair by the window. He is watching the yellow leaves slowly break from their branches and gently sway down to the pile that awaits. He sighs. In the solitude of his bedchamber, the silence is only heightened with the continuous ticking of the grandfather clock behind him.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock
One yellow leaf swung against the wind, stubborn to have more time on the branch.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock
“Look at us, we are always running, cursing, chasing, regretting, searching and yelling. We are always racing with time.
We say time flew by as if it is a bird we cannot catch. And even if we did, even if we did catch this bird, how would we treat it? We’d probably lock it in a cage satisfied that time can no longer fly. We would not notice that this bird no longer sings, and soon enough we’d forget to feed it, until eventually we would forget about it all together till it dies.
We say time ran by so fast as if it is a man we cannot meet. But even if we did meet this man, how would we make him stay? We’d probably continue to relentlessly try to capture his attention and seduce him in several ways until he has fallen for us. We would then take this lover for granted and lose interest as the excitement of the chase has vanished. Soon enough we would abandon this lover and he would die of a broken heart.
We say we cannot afford to lose time as if it is money we cannot own. And even If we did own this money, how would we spend it? We’d probably advance our own interests with the least care for anything else in the world. Oh yes, when time is money, there is no need for time at all. Soon enough we become lavished and we become jaded, and before we know it we have spent all our money until there is no more of life for our soul.
They all die. The bird. The man. The money. This is what we want to do isn’t it? We want to kill time?
This is why we ruthlessly chase after it, why we mercilessly exhaust our withering soul; all for the single purpose of “living” ahead of time.
But when was the last time we stopped, closed our eyes and inhaled gratitude and exhaled forgiveness? When was the last time we stood under the rain and allowed it to wash away our regrets of yesterday, let the
wind blow away the burdens of tomorrow? And when was the last time we actually permitted ourselves to immerse in the infinite sensation of a silent moment and allowed it to stretch over a magnitude of a rising sun?
We haven’t. Because we are still victims to a saying that was conceived from the beginning of time “life is short” and yet, ironically even with this knowledge we are fixed on killing time. And so we persistently chase it down the rabbit hole to a land of chaos. We continue to race against it, and this is why we are called the human race. And we the humans have allowed time to slip between our fingers like grains of sand forgetting that once upon a time, we invented it. Now… we let it control us.”
The grandfather clock chimed loudly breaking the silence.
The leaf, either struck by the sudden sound or the strong wind finally surrendered to its fate.
If it fought harder would it have had more time to stay a bit longer? That’s the thing, there is no such thing as later or earlier. Only what’s destined. And like all the leaves in autumn, every leaf was meant to fall. Perhaps some before others, but they all fall eventually. There is no such thing as time. Only what’s meant to be. And if we believed that then maybe… just maybe we would begin to live and we would finally be at peace.