I have this clock inside me I continually ignore or second-guess how much time I have, whether to write my book, or to live my life.

My father admonished me to conquer time. One time, close to my face, as a kind father would, as if he knew, he told me, "Conquer the night." 

Night is a part of time. Usually it's sleepy time but not with father. And not with me anymore. Four to five hours of sleep is sufficient for me; ahh, with a few catch-up late-mornings or mid-day naps; strategic 13-minute naps; any longer, I start going deep, any shorter, and I feel I missed it, the rest -- just the rest of bones and brain.

The clock fools us intentionally. It repeats and looks the same every day. It does not get greyer hair. It keeps its youthful appearance. It numbs me to ignore the passage of days.

Years on calendar numbers go by so slowly I tolerate the passage, because I'm living in the moment.

The flag that time is running into the distance is my wife. Her body aches, her walks shorter, her hearing lax. Love deepens as time shortens.

Sit with that for a while. I have time to sit. Watch the trees grow, leaves blow, the heart slow. The older I get, the more comfortable the chair.

Time I measure in the conquering. That word... reminds me of when I wrote my Ten Commandments of Time: Time is for growing. That's the most important one.

I haven't stopped. The next life won't have me either. Time or not.


July 24, 2026   10:20 AM

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