Some days I wonder if half my trouble is that I prefer chairos to chronos.
Chronos as in clock-time, doctors’ appointments, time for supper.
Chairos as in non-linear, non-measured time. The time spent doing something absorbing. Time in meditation’s sweet spot. God’s time.
An hour face-down on the acupuncturist’s table is sometimes just one dictation machine away from the most marvelous day…
But like dream-time, it often evaporates under a steady gaze.
Some days I wonder if the other half of my trouble is that accountability seems to live best inside chronos.
I can’t live without accountability, either.