The last post (the Skywatch Friday) was the 100th post here. Well, well, well...-
I haven´t much time these days to do anything I´d like to do. I am just working, preparing for work. No daily blogging, no reading books, no baking things just for fun. Just from time to time I meet some of my friends.
Anytime I meet my father he asks me: "And what about your thesis? Have you started yet?"
Me: "Started? Are you kidding?"
Him: "No, I am definitely not. Darling, when are you going to hand it in?"
Me: "April 2009"
Him: "And how many pages have you written since now?"
Me: "I don´t know... ok, ok, I only have one page..."
Him: "Well, maybe you should start as soon as possible, don´t you think?"
Me: "But when? I just have no time these days!"
Him: "You don´t? Come on! The only person you take care of is you, no kids or so, and you don´t have time? And what are you doing when you are not at work?"
Me: "Everything.. you know, preparing for work, sometimes a short walk or exercise, and thing like these."
Him: "I know you and you cannot just prepare for work or walking all free time long. Again: What are you doing?"
And that´s it. I DO NOT KNOW. I was thinking about that and I must say that I don´t know what I am doing, but still I do not have time. It is like: the more free time I have, the less time to do important things I have. Does it make sense? No. Not much.
I was talking this over with my friends from the university and they have the same feeling. Isn´t it weird? We should manage our time more precisely and perhaps we will stop losing the bits of free time.
I was searching for some poem about time and I had already decided that I would post here a poem by Emily Dickinson but then I found this gorgeous poem by the third-bestselling poet in the history after Shakespeare and Laozi - by Khalil Gibran.
And an astronomer said, "Master, what of Time?"
And he answered: You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not form love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless?
But if in you thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons,
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.