Everything takes time.
At least, that’s what they tell me.
It takes time to heal. Time to succeed. Time to adapt and even adjust.
Hmmm. To me, all these b.s. thoughts that they cram in my brain seem a little too simple, don’t you think?
They say a body needs time to heal. So, let’s use a broken arm for example, because a heel might become too confusing. Okay, the doctor diagnoses a break in your left ulna. She further determines that the bone needs to heal in a cast for six weeks. Okay. We now officially have a time frame. But, as soon as that cast comes off, you notice your right arm is more muscular than your left. So, what do you need? You got it. More time.
You need physical therapy to get that atrophied arm back into shape. And you know what else? It takes time to go to therapy or the gym, two or three times a week. And when you ask that doctor during the check up how long until your arm is 100%. Guess what she says? Yep, you won again. Time.
They say it takes time to move up that success ladder. Go to school or learn a trade, then get a job. Now, you’re out of school, buy a bunch of cool clothes to wear to your new job and count the minutes until you’re successful. Except…you’re at the bottom and make entry level wages. You spend most of your extra time trying to figure out how to eat or pay the rent or furnish your new apartment.
Maybe you know you are officially successful when you don’t get yelled at by the boss for spending too much time around the water cooler when your entry-level butt should be parked in your makeshift chair with the cushion worn so thin it feels like your sitting on an economy class airplane seat all day.
A real sense of time in your new career is knowing you found a front row spot in the parking lot and can spend five minutes banging your head on the steering wheel and crying about how much time eight hours feels like every day, five days a week. It’s new and something you’ll have to adapt and adjust to over the next thirty years. It will take time to get over it.
Time is subjective. For instance, a good friend of mine and I were talking about time management recently. We may have spent hours or minutes or days on the subject. It’s hard to tell how long we spent discussing the ramifications of time; especially when time flies when you’re having fun. Despite my friend’s possible protests, I’d like to share with you some of our evaluations.
We sat at the table enjoying a cocktail, and little barbeque wieners, as an appetizer. I asked, “When did we smoke last?” Her simple yet effective response was, “twenty minutes ago.” Which led to the next five hours, or possibly twenty minutes, debating the perception of time.
As a child we would ask our parents on a long Sunday drive, How long til we get there? What was mom’s answer? Twenty minutes. And that question and answer session lasted for three hours in twenty-minute intervals until we–got there.
How long should I bake the chicken? Twenty minutes. It’s not done yet. Add twenty minutes.
When did we order that pizza? Twenty minutes ago.
I don’t want to go downtown. It takes forever. It’s only a twenty-minute drive.
Time is tiring; so here’s my advice. Take your time. There’s no need to rush. Sit back and relax for twenty minutes and let your mind wander, which makes cooking easier. Because not all recipes call for thyme.