Somehow everything always came down to time, she realized with perfect lucidity. There was either too much or too little. It either passed too quickly or too slowly. It didn’t belong to anyone—it was simply a gift, bestowed by God, and yet eternally taken for granted. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing Time could be tamed—reigned in—and tethered, synchronized with human needs and wants. But that wasn’t the case, was it?
In every time of season change: it is #wise to slow down and examine what our ego, thought-habits, and spiritual-energy are communicating to others...our environments. Truth is these thoughts (attitudes that aren't situationally static) are producing real activity, outcomes that shape our existence. Consider the conception of our thoughts, and what they will give birth to beyond the physical...they have an incredible power, with or without our active will, to lift us, sink us or soar us. Consider how we as human beings can be subject to the law enforcement of living under our own thought legislation...Selah.
Time interacts with attention in funny ways. At one extreme, when Ruth was gripped by the compulsive mania and hyperfocus of an Internet search, the hours seemed to aggregate and swell like a wave, swallowing huge chunks of her day. At the other extreme, when her attention was disengaged and fractured, she experienced time at its most granular, wherein moments hung around like particles, diffused and suspended in standing water. There used to be a middle way, too, when her attention was focused but vast, and time felt like a limpid pool, ringed by sunlit ferns. An underground spring fed the pool from deep below, creating a gentle current of words that bubbled up, while on the surface, breezes shimmered and played.