I woke up Saturday with no grand plans and decided it would be interesting to have a little experiment. To lose track of Time. To act as if Time did not exist1. So I moseyed around my house and taped index cards over all my clocks, all my two clocks—the microwave and the stove. Then I went about my day wandering and pondering and reading and writing and talking and creating.
It didn’t take long before I realized I have many ways of telling Time in my home. My cell phone makes a big Time announcement whenever I pick it up so I folded an index card and taped it like a book cover over my phone. But uh-oh, once I get past the opening screen, there the clock is again, hanging out at the top shouting “look at me, look at me!” So I taped a sliver of an index card over the top clock. I’m fully protected. Or so I think.
Time also rears its head when I check my email or text messages. The simplest solution I’ve found is to squint long enough to place my thumb over the time, then open my eyes to read, and squint again when I remove said thumb to send my reply.
Now, I’m fully protected. Wrong again. The screensaver on my laptop floats around the phrase “Yes, I can!” as well as the elusive Time. So I’m now tilting my screen down when not in use to avoid any accidental views of Time. Then there’s a clock when I turn on my TV that I would have bet money did not exist. But the squinting works wonders for this avoidance as well2.
It’s now later. I accidentally saw the Time so I know it’s a little past noon. And I’m realizing there was a slight bit of relief whenever Time came to my rescue as if I needed its push or pull helping to keep me on track. Am I co-dependent on Time? Apparently.
Now that this latest Time hiccup has come and gone, it should truly be the last as all clocks are most certainly now covered or I at least understand how to censor Time’s tease. Caught in Time’s limbo, the day progresses into night. I’m slowly getting more comfortable and finding it almost exhilarating—this whole losing track of Time thing.
I thought the day would go super fast, but it is quite the opposite. Time seems to have slowed. The day settled in. Or maybe I settled in to the day. Staying present in the here and now instead of allowing Time to dictate my where’s and when’s. It is quite a peaceful experience. I find myself listening to my body and inner self regarding when to do things and where to go and what to do.
I could probably benefit from more of this in my life. My schedule may not allow for it every week, but maybe one Saturday a month. Or maybe it can be experienced in short spurts by setting an alarm four hours into the future and then covering all the clocks, only to view them again when that pre-set alarm goes off. Four hours of truly being in the here and now. With just myself.
I hadn’t realized how the presence of Time can cause a pressure, often subconscious—to perform, to be somewhere, to do something, to be living in the past or the future, anywhere but here and now.
And, don’t get me wrong, I get that time plays an important role in our global world, but balance in one’s life is of utmost importance. So, after this experiment, I find myself with a strong desire to create for myself this space, on a regular basis, where I can lose track of time.
©2020 Angel K Will
Photo by Aphiwat chuangchoem from Pexels, Edited by Angel K Will
1 I wrote a poem a few years back about how time is a man-made construct dictating our where’s and when’s. Surprised it took so long for me to experiment with that idea. You can check out the poem by clicking here.
2 I’m sure all this squinting is doing nothing for the wrinkles around my eyes (sorry I’m not listening mom). But something’s got to give, and I’m experimenting with time today. Maybe a crow’s feet experiment will be forthcoming.