Time Keeps On Tickin’ Tickin’
By Cheryl Hansen
Time. I’m obsessed with it. When is that due? What time do I have to be there? When, for the love of God, do we spring forward already? (March 10; I looked.) Even more than I need more daylight, I need time: more time to get my work done, more time to cook healthy meals vs. throwing something together, more time to be outside in the sunshine, more time to actually see an Oscar-nominated movie before the awards are handed out, more time to hang with my kids, more time to bliss out on my yoga mat and more time to just be. I need more time.
Don’t we all?
Since nobody has figured out how to give me more hours—I need to redistribute the ones I already have. Yeah, I know—not exactly Pulitzer Prize-winning idea. But if I can just give up some of those nagging, draining, unrelenting time suckers, I suspect I’ll find what I’m looking for.
Take Facebook. Please. I’ve convinced myself I’m only on it to see distant family and friends, their kids and the occasional recipe from Natasha’s Kitchen. But the truth is that Facebook is my pathetic version of meditation—a moment (or 10) of escape to reset my brain before tackling the next task. It’s entirely possible that actual meditation would be more effective, but I wouldn’t know because Facebook. Even conservative estimates of how much time I scroll through obscure ads and angry political posts add up to at least a couple hours a week—that’s two more podHot classes, four more pans of roasted vegetables, a date with Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga, or like five clean loads of laundry (folded AND put away).
So I’m giving it up (Facebook, not the laundry) for the next three weeks. Having challenged my sweet-addicted daughter to skipping dessert with me till Valentine’s Day, I saw an opportunity to lose some screen time with my YouTube superfan son. He’ll sit out three weeks of ridiculous, what’s-the-point-anyway YouTube videos, and I’ll retire my Facebook retreats. My hope for him is that he’ll find other things to entertain himself and curb the craving for watching other people play video games. My hope for me is that I’ll spend more time at my desk working and when I need to reset my brain, I’ll resume actual meditation with actual breathing and not a single “Like” button. Wish me luck (but not on Facebook, because I won’t see it).