​Dear Time,

You have been quite a tricky one to figure out. You have been both a friend and an enemy. In my personal quest to make meaning in my life, I realize that I need to figure out how to navigate you and by doing so, stop fighting you. I just updated my iPhone and I noticed that Apple felt it was important to add seconds onto the timer function I often use. I guess hours and minutes were not enough, suddenly, seconds mattered. What is our society coming to? Even more reason to develop a more respectful and sustainable relationship with you.
 
My friend Tammy mentioned you over the summer, as she, who has been battling with you for decades, decided to finally find a way to live with you, peacefully. As she proclaimed that she was no longer a slave to you, would no longer feel your squeeze, and refused to be bullied by you, I was excited for her, but pondered if I too, had as difficult a relationship with you as she had. I immediately thought, “nah….” But as weeks went by and I continued to reflect, I don’t remember exactly when it hit me, but I woke up one day and thought, “Oh no…it’s true. I hate you.” Thus started my own journey of understanding your role in my life – how you provide for me, punish and manipulate me. And that perhaps, I am not alone in this feeling. That you do this to all of us. Or said another way, we allow you to.
 
At any given moment, I feel like I don’t have enough of you, Time. Though I have the same amount of time that every other person has, 24 hours just doesn’t seem like enough. I am constantly trying to find the 25th hour in the day. Because I tell myself that I would be happier if I just had that one more hour to get X done. Funny enough, whatever X is, it never seems to be work related. Although there isn’t as much time in my schedule for even those tasks, X is often more self-serving, like meditating more, slowing down and catching my breath, being mindful, or spending time with those I love.
 
As a society, we try to manipulate time by changing it (daylight savings), managing it (clocks, alarms, chimes), negotiating with it (“please give me one more day with my loved one before they pass”), and fighting the science behind it (Albert Einstein's 1905 special relativity challenge.) Time has defined my success in life. I would write out long lists of what needed to get done in a day and I was only happy if I could get the ridiculous number of things on that list done. If I didn’t, then I considered myself a failure or “less than.” Was that the right way to judge myself? Well, perhaps not, but the entire western society that surrounded me sent messages that time was to be feared and would become my arbiter on judgment day.
 
“If you are killing time, it’s not murder. It’s suicide.”  - Lou Holtz
 
The bad news is, time flies. The good news is, you and I are pilots of our lives.
I have control – you have control. But do I choose to take control? Not always. The control I sometimes seek is to go back in life. Not to change anything, but to feel a few things twice. What it felt like to be wrapped in my mother’s arms when I came out of the cold Atlantic Ocean after swallowing what felt like a gallon of salt water, what it felt like to hold my father’s arthritic hands, knowing that by being held, his pain was relieved, or what it felt like watching a live concert where I knew every word to every song as did everyone around me and so was not embarrassed to scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs. Those moments. But you can’t, they are gone. You have to make new ones. Sometimes, there is no next time, no second, third, or fourth chances, no pause button or time out. Sometimes it’s just now or never. Then what?
 
Humans seem to freeze when they face a “now time.” We so desperately want “time” and then, when time is given to us or a moment is offered up to take action, we freeze, unable to grab the opportunity and act.
 
“If you don’t make the time to work on creating the life you want, you’re eventually going to be forced to spend a lot of time dealing with a life you don’t want.”
 
Kevin Ngo’s quote reminds us that we are in some way in control of you time, but not so much how fast or slow we go, but how we use you. How much of my life has been spent trying to beat you, Time?
 
I struggle to make the most of you, Time, yet I find myself in a constant battle with you. You never seem to give back all that you take from me. I fall prey to your time vampires, you know those time-sucking people, projects, and tasks that take precious time away from your day, usually unexpectedly. You parade around every morning, teasing me, making me think that a totally unscheduled day will remain so, but there is always something that you throw in that takes you away from me. An unexpected emergency, call, or “client must have” that takes away precious hours of my day. So, I schedule myself to the minute, because when I schedule, then there isn’t time for time vampires. I use my schedule as a stake that I can throw at time vampires. And it works, most of the time. But occasionally, I throw the schedule stake and it bounces off. And suddenly, I have both a full schedule and a time vampire to deal with. No wonder I am exhausted. But I refuse to fall on your stake any longer.
 
Part of making meaning in my life means bringing back control over my schedule. And although as a Professional Certified Coach, I make meaning in my life every day I am working, I crave more meaning making. And that will take reflection. And time to do that reflection. And I’m a hypocrite if I tell others the #1 priority in their lives is their own self-reflection when I can’t seem to find the “time” to do it myself. I am reminded that if I don’t have time for what matters, I need to stop doing things that don’t.
 
It’s time to make meaning through working with time, instead of against it.
But I also need to remember, that sometimes, time needs, well, time.
​So, I’ll also be patient.
 
-AM

​​The “dog days,” I always thought, were those long summer days so devastatingly hot that the only energy dogs could muster was to lie around panting to help them alleviate the heat.

I learned recently that the term “Dog Days of Summer” actually has nothing to do with slowing down, but instead, it turns out, the dog days refer to the dog star, Sirius, and its position in the heavens during this time of year. 

Good to know, but I prefer the image of my Dog, Oz the Great, making the most of the summer by slowing down and truly appreciating what is important. Oz is an eleven-something year-old super mutt. He came into our life when he was three years old, already a soul who has seen a lifetime of pain. Yet he seemed to put it all behind him when he joined our family. Oz has been my mentor since the day we brought him home 8 years ago, but he becomes especially wise during the summer, when he reminds me to not only be and stay present, but to play every day even if it is only for five minutes, not hold a grudge, jump up and greet people in your life that you love even if you just saw them ten minutes ago, avoid biting when growling will do, accept yourself for who you are and where you are at this very moment, go for walks every day, and drink lots of water. 

All good lessons, but I would like to focus on the slowing down and staying present. Because as humans, even during summer, we forget to do exactly that. I personally find myself trying to pack in as much as I can in the summer including trying to have a year of dinner parties within three months, hiking all of those trails I didn’t get to over the spring, visiting as many family members as possible, tackling exterior house projects, visiting every creeme stand in the state of Vermont, and other “over-functioning” opportunities.  

For my dog, Oz summer means taking naps in the sun, rolling around in the grass, and just sitting in the backyard and watching the insects pollinate the flowers. He knows to look up at the stars when they magically appear before him at dusk. And during the day, he also knows to look up at the sun, only he does so without sunglasses, so he looks up through the trees and allows them to soften the light streaming through. For him, the dog days of summer mean being and going slower, in his walks around the neighborhood or when he eats. He has it figured out.  

For me, as the founder of FromWithin Coaching, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the explosive growth our organization has seen in the past year and I have spent more time than I care to admit working on the business. But Oz the dog has helped remind me what is important: to slow down and see what is happening right in front of me. Because in order for me to navigate the growth of our organization, I need to appreciate where we are right now as a company. 

So, take it from Oz, tap the brakes a little and transition out of summer nice and slow. Listen and watch for what might be next for you and your life. Oz the Great is all knowing and truly powerful because he sees what is before him.

​What is possible for you? 

​It’s true. Our decisions determine our future. They influence our achievements,
our sense of purpose, and our overall happiness. Even the seemingly small
decisions that we make every day—what to have for lunch? what time to go to
bed? what movie to see this weekend? post it on social media or not? —are
building blocks of our future selves and ultimately of the quality of our lives.
Whether we realize it or not, we are constantly choosing to either seize an
opportunity for growth or make an excuse that allows us to remain within our
comfort zone. Most of us are hardwired to stick to what we know. Why risk our
sense of security for something bolder and brighter when there’s a chance it
might not work out?
 
It’s a good question. But reframe it. Instead of listing all of the things that could
go wrong (i.e. making excuses to “play it safe”), dream up all of the things that
could go right. The challenge then becomes justifying why we wouldn’t give up
safety and predictability to take a chance. When we allow ourselves to envision
all of the opportunities that exist outside of our comfort zone, the possibilities for
who we can become are endless. We are the limits we create for ourselves, after
all.
 
Not so sure? Does the name Bethany Hamilton ring a bell? Oscar Pistorius? How
about Jason Lester? The competitive surfer, sprint runner, and endurance athlete
respectively, are world-class athletes who have earned international recognition
for not only excelling in their sports, but for doing so despite having suffered the
loss of a limb—in Oscar Pistorius’s case, two limbs. These athletes risked
privacy, humiliation, and their own comfort zone to pursue what lit a spark in
them. And they did so by refusing to put limits on what could be achieved; they
chose the brilliance that comes from choosing opportunity over excuses.