Some one asked me what I wanted for Christmas and my response was, time. I don’t mean in the sense of getting a new watch (which would fabulous) but in the sense that I simply don’t care for material possessions as I once did. I guess as I look at the increasing number of grey hairs in my beard, I begin to think about things I’ve done and not done and things that I’ve said and not said.
Time can be our greatest asset and our worst enemy all rolled into one. It has allowed me to suffer with horrid decisions while healing the pain in the end. It has allowed me to cultivate a passion and love the people who mean the most to me. However, there are times that I feel that it isn’t enough. I feel, at times, that I do not have all the time I need.
When we buried my aunt last month, it was my mother that looked at everyone and said, “I thought I had more time.”
That the thing isn’t it? We all wish we had more time. There seems to be a universal trait with all humans that time is something that could be more valuable than money. There is certain amount of privilege that comes with being young if we measure time in units of value.
When were are young, we are frivolous with it. We waste it on meaningless things and yet we can be generous with it when it suits our needs. When we get older we start to clutch on to it. We want to save it and keep in safe. We watch and monitor our valuable units of time slowly whisk away until we have nothing left.
Until I am measured I am not known,Yet how you miss me when I have flown. This is the reason why I seem to watch television less and less. The reason why I feel the need to write as many books as I can. Time is a universal truth, a rule that cannot be broken by any science, magic, or religion. We will spend it one way or another but really the question is how much of it will we waste until its too late?
I submit to you all that its not just life that is precious, it’s also time. Wasted time is a crime in itself and that’s why it hurts so much when someone dies. Not only is their life gone but their units of time is gone as well. While we mourn an older person who has left us, there is a spirit of celebration due to the good times shared. But when a young person goes via murder, disease, or an accident…then the pain is compounded because future time is now lost.
We can say Black Lives Matter but what we really mean is Black Time Matters. Think about all the wasted time (as a people) in bondage, or battling racism, or dealing with poverty, or dealing with things that cannot be afforded. That is why genocide is so horrible because time is stolen from future generations.
Maybe I’m getting sentimental, after all I did turn forty this year. I’ve had an eye on just about everything that has been happening around me. It is hard to stop and smell the roses for fear of wasting time.
At the end of the day, I’m still reminded of an old discussion I wrote about in 2011 where someone told me, we all make time for what we want.