I have had a problem lately–since starting a very demanding and draining job–of feeling a sense of dread, of a ticking clock, when I know that I’ll have to go to work soon. Whether it’s the little bit of time I have in the morning before I go to work, or the 30 minutes I have in the middle of the day, or Sunday evening after an eventful and rejuvenating weekend. Even the last few hours of a long break.
But I just realized tonight that the reason I end up feeling this way isn’t actually because work is looming. Yes, work is looming in my mind, but that’s because I’m not living in the present moment. The last few hours of the day aren’t different, inherently, than the first few, or the middle few. They’re just hours. It’s just time, and time is always the same. Steady, neutral.
For the first few hours this morning–the last day of a long holiday–I was blissful and blithe. I sat in my chair and looked outside and drank coffee, and all was right with the world. Now that it’s the early evening, though, suddenly it feels harder to just enjoy my time. I feel the incoming day ahead. The impending tomorrow.
What I need to do is pause, breathe, remember that this is still right now, and just enjoy the time like any other. The only time I need to really worry about tomorrow is tomorrow. (Sure, it might be nice to prepare for tomorrow a little bit so I’m not scrambling at the last minute in the morning to get ready, but there really isn’t much to prepare for.)
Tomorrow is tomorrow and always will be. Right now is only right now.
P.S. — I want a watch that just says ‘now’ on the face every time I look at it. “What time is it?” “Now.” “Oh, perfect.” If anyone wants to invent that I’ll buy one. Thanks.
The Vulcan Buddha 