A few years back, I realized that about three or four times an hour—maybe forty or fifty times in any given day—I was telling myself

HURRY

Hurry to finish my shower so I can dry my hair so I won’t be late for the interview.

Hurry to make tea and get dressed and get kiddo’s lunch packed and warm up the car and get to his doctor’s appointment.

Hurry to catch the flight. Hurry to the date. Launch the course. Write the email. Return the voicemail. Make it through the yellow light. Get to bed. Wake up early. Finish my shower.

hurry

hurry!

Hurrrrrrrry

hurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurry

I assumed I was late. All the time. Perpetually. Late for my life. Late for the party.

Life was happening out there somewhere, and if I didn’t get there in time it would be over, and I would have missed my chance. Too late for me.

Can you relate?

Do you feel awash in the worry that it’s too late for you? That you take too long—to get it, to heal, to start the thing, end the other thing?

(Takes a breath).

So. Something I’ve been doing in my life for the past several years—which helps me shift some strangely stuck stuff—is examining my relationship with the concept.

In this case, the concept is Time.

But what if Time isn’t a concept? What if Time is an animate creature or a palpable energy, with whom I could have a relationship?

So, first, I animated Time.

Animism is the belief that all objects, places, and creatures (and even concepts like Time) are animated or inhabited by a distinct spiritual essence.

Animism is a concept, a sensibility, a style of relating to the world. It is also a religious and ontological perspective common to many indigenous cultures across the world. I first encountered this while traveling in Bali. On this gorgeous Indonesian island, the Balinese practice a form of Hinduism infused with Animism.

The Balinese believe trees are sacred, so they wrap them in sacred cloth. They feel stone statues are sentient, so they tuck flowers behind the stone creatures’ ears in praise.

And the trees, and stones, and statues do feel ALIVE. PRESENT. ANIMATED.

I didn’t want to relate to Time as a concept. So I shifted to the animistic.

I instinctively knew that my relationship with Time needed an upgrade, a maturation, a refinement.

If I was absolutely driven by the idea that I was too late and it was always ‘too late’ for me, what was my relationship with Time? Was it a healthy relationship?

I realized that I had a pretty F-ed up relationship with Time. Abusive even.

I thought Time didn’t care that much about me. 

Time waits for no one, I’ve been told.

Time was zooming along, caring not at all about me. It was my job to run faster and catch up with time. And to make sure: don’t waste any time with Time.

I thought time was against me.

Time is not your friend, I’ve been told.

Time might be on other people’s sides, but definitely time was not on my side. Maybe Time favors the young, the wealthy, the famous, the connected? I’ve never been famous, but I do know that when I was young or when I was making more money than right now, I still felt Time was against me.

I thought I had to cheat Time. Defy it. Beat it.

Time flies, I’ve been told.

Life is flying by. So fast. I feared there was a fast-approaching moment when I would expire. After which I would lose my value and worth and interest, like spoilt milk.

I thought Time was something to be cheated, like a test. Swindled, like a con. Defied, like a jailer. Beat, like an opponent.

Maybe that ‘anti-aging’ cream could turn back the hands of Time, and push my expiration date a bit. Kinda like ultra-pasteurizing milk: some of those dairy products can last months.

Or adding preservatives to pastries. I hear Twinkies can last decades. Kinda like Botox: ultra-pasteurization for time-defiant foreheads everywhere.

(But I digress).

So then I had a conversation with Time.

Time, I asked. Is it true? Are you against me? Do you wait for no one? Are you flying by?

I got two answers. Two mouth on the floor answers.

First, Time tells me:

Oh, no, I love you. I’m with you, not against you. I adore you. I am in love with what you want to do and make and create. I am your partner in it.

I am, Time tells me, a force, an energy that helps move an idea into reality. You think, “I’ll have a shower” and I provide the energy, the force to take the idea of shower into reality of you showering. That’s my role. I love my role. I love you.

However, Time tells me:

I do it in the way you think it should go. If you think Time is running out for you and you’d better hurry from sunup to sundown, that’s how I show up for you. I shape-shift to your belief of me.

You think I’m against you, and because I love you and want to help you, I show up with the quality of being against you.

You think you’ve got all the Time in the world, and because I love you and want to help you, I show up with the quality of languid all-the-time-in-the-world.

If you ever saw the (very dated but cult classic) movie “Princess Bride,” Time is like Westley rolling down the hill after Princess Buttercup throws him over, promising, “As you wish.”

What this means, friend, is that if you believe—as I did—that time is a meanspirited, abusive partner, that’s the kind of partner Time shows up as.

So, I’ve changed my relationship to Time.

I think of Time as my friend. A helper. A lover, even. Totally on my side.

Time has plenty of time for me. There’s always enough Time.

That means I can go at my own organic, unique pace.

This means I’m not expiring. Well, no more than any living being, headed as we all are inevitably to death at some point, but first—if we’re lucky—ripe and interesting elder years.

That means there’s no need to try to get one over on Time. Life is (and always was) a series of unfolding wonders and heartbreaks and adventures and troughs. The next wonder or trough is coming, regardless if I’m hurrying toward it or trying to sleep through it.

I like thinking of Time like my sous-chef. When my life requires me to learn how to dice carrots, Time hands me a knife. When my life requires me to find a third, fourth, fifth doctor for my son, Time hands me the phone. When my life requires me to rest, Time tucks me in.

“The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.” Says Michael Altshuler. I guess that would make Time my co-pilot.

So, back to answer the question that I started with: Is it too late for you?

The simple answer is no. Hell no.

Please consider that you’ve got all the Time in the world.

Please consider that maybe you’re exactly, perfectly right on Time. Maybe you’ve been amassing skills and perspectives and experiences and inner capacity that have you now be perfectly poised to do or create the thing you want to do or create. And now, Time is ripe.

Please also consider you’re within your rights and abilities to have a lovely, loving relationship with Time.

Anyway dear one, please consider that Time is ready to help—whether you think of Time as against you or right by your side.

It’s your Time now, my friend,