Whose time is it anyway?

Daily writing prompt

Which activities make you lose track of time?

Sometimes my time sensing mind is like a goldfish and every 10 seconds something new has my attention. Other times it’s on hyper focus mode and nothing can drag me from whatever is captivating me. Sometimes my brain is just too loud to know that time even exists, and I need a nap and maybe I’ll be human when I wake up.

In general, though, having done so much work where each task takes approximately 5-10-15 etc minutes, I can usually set an internal timer and am generally spot on as to how much time has passed.

Now, I have noticed that, for me, there are places that have their own time fields. Like the barn or the river. When I am in those places, the timing of the outside world no longer matters, minutes no longer denote the passing of our lives, but gentle calm breaths and slow deliberate movements take over. I can be absorbed into the peace of my activity. Places that have their own times are places that call you to become fully present. When you’re working with horses for example. Your plan is to just go on a simple trail ride, from your own barn on your own property. Even if you know how long your trail is and how long it may take you to walk that trail on your own feet, you cannot assume that doing that trail on horseback will have the same yields. Horses, well they’re wild animals with their own minds. So planning that trip with your best equine pal is gonna add some time cause first you have to get them ready. You gotta brush them and check their feet and get all their tack on. Sometimes this is a straightforward endeavor and sometimes Ol’ Ginger has a rock stuck in her hoof and is having a real bad day and tries to smash you against the wall of her stall each time you pick up any of her feet (of which there are 4). So now you were fixin to go on a relaxing trail ride and you’re making progress towards your goal but you’re also sweating and swearing and bruised from your friend trying to crush you with her whole body. It’s not my fault you can’t stay out of the gravel Ginger! Now all the rest of her clothes have to go on and you also know that in order to get that cinch tight enough that ol’ Ging can’t slide you off on a tree on the first corner, you’re gonna have to walk her around the pasture for 15 minutes, and gradually tightening that cinch up. Ging is all dressed up, you’ve got your lunch and beverages in your saddle bags and are now ready to head out. Going from the barn to the trail head is easy as pie but then there’s the creek to cross. You and Ginger both know she is able to cross the creek but each time she sees it she has to remember her abilities and you’re the one who has to remind her. She decides today she isn’t afraid of the creek but she is afraid of the bridge so as long as you go around the bridge instead of over, you’re both in good shape. And thus your ride begins, and knowing you’ve set aside the whole day to go on this adventure you and Ginger ride off into the woods to relax and deepen your bond with eachother and Mother Nature.

Similarly with the river or the ocean, the destination is known, but the journey and experience are what really matter and if existing in nature isn’t a time we should let our existence be timeless then I don’t know when it should.

People have told me so many times in my life how patient I am. When I have been working with children or monkeys, or dogs or horses, the list goes on.. For me, in those moments, it didn’t feel like patience, it felt like pressance.

The time I am spending with my dog, me standing calmly still and making soothing noises while she is overly excitedly trying to engage that other dog walking by some of that is patience, the patience to relase any judgement I have of myself or am percieving in others because my dogs is making ‘a scene’. But most of it for me is presence, because if I am there with her, while she’s too excited about that other dog, I can sense the moment when her brain has space to listen to me again and I can call her back and reward her. Then our bond and trust is that much stronger because I was patient with myself and present with her. It’s the same with other animals, including human primates. If we can have patience and empathy with ourselves, we don’t project our terrifying stories onto others. And that leaves space for understanding and growth.

Time doesn’t really exist anyway, so I may as well focus mine on things that do make me lose track of it, because then, I will know I am present and doing something I enjoy so much that I don’t even remember the rest of the world has a clock.