6 Comments

Robyn, thanks for this great piece on time. I, too, love to get a massage and the 90-minutes just flies by! Funny how that works. Also, many, many thanks for linking to our interview on "More to Come" - it was a treat to talk with you about your story in "Playing Authors."

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Yes, if I could get a massage that lasted all day, I think maybe I would. You're most welcome. Thanks for doing the interview. It was great fun.

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I’ve noticed that it takes much longer to go somewhere than to come back from said place. Bizarro I think, but true just about every time.

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This is so true! The drive up to Columbus I did on Saturday took FOREVER! The drive home was a breeze. Is it because we’re always happier to come home than we are to leave?

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I got all happy when I saw your post because I spend a lot of... time thinking about time. I'm not sure about this, but I think maybe us humans made up this concept of time to help us prioritize and make sense of what we choose to do, and why. I can only do one thing at a "time." A "time" is just a point in my life when I notice what I have chosen to do with this particular part of my allotment of existence. Time only matters when I am either afraid that I am wasting it, resentful that what I'm doing is not what I would prefer to be doing, or worried about not getting to do/experience what I want to as much as I wish I could. When I'm so involved with what I'm doing that I forget about all those concerns, I don't notice time because it is irrelevant; I feel connected to something bigger than me because I am involved in what I am doing, which, to some degree, involves being in sync with here and now - the present moment, in an un-self-conscious way. I think time seems to drag when I'm not enjoying the present moment precisely because I am so busy noticing it. Regardless of what the clock says, I am noticing many more moments in which I wish I were doing something else than I do if I'm not worried about how much of my time is being spent in a way I don't want it to be. Time is what happens when I'm not fully engaged with the moment I am currently living.

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Oh I am so glad I no longer have to grade. I laughed out loud at the stopping and counting how many more with each exam, as if the number would have suddenly dropped or expanded since I last counted. I would break them up into stacks of 5, can't stop and take a break until 5 done and have a cookie, but would decide half way through that 3 was a more reasonable number.or one, if it was a particularly awful one. How I handled end of first semester is that my lovely husband bought me xmas music cds ever year, everything from classics to punk rock to Irish tavern songs, and I got to listen to them (which I would never have imposed on poor man if I wasn't grading). I also made sure the tree, a live one, was up and decorated before I started so I could feast my eyes on the tree as a break. By the time I retired, I found I was actually nauseated by the process, so much anxiety about whether I was being fair, did my comments make sense, and difficulty maintaining enough concentration when I often had over 150 or more freshman history exams to grade. So, I guess thank you for the reminder, and my gratitude I will never, ever have to do this again!

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