Listening to Time

Tick. Tick. Tick.

If we are quiet enough, the constant tick of a second hand can penetrate the subconscious and even seep into the depths of our souls. It is the sound of a more profound truth that we both yearn for and fear.

I remember hearing a story in Switzerland, the land of “time,” about a young gentleman who came into a store to look for a watch. After inspecting a particular watch for about five minutes, he looked up at the owner and asked, “What can it do?” The store owner replied, “It tells the time.” “That’s it?” asked the young gentleman, and walked out.

Time is an interesting thing. It is, by its very nature, confining and calculated. It taunts us in ways that nothing else can. It can make us anxious about both the past and the future while ironically being what it was meant to be all along, namely, to indicate “here and now.”

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” 

–St. Teresa of Calcutta

Like that young gentleman, we want to know that time exists. We want the “watch” because it comforts us in some ways to know that it is there, guiding us and giving us direction in our day. Yet, we desire distractions as well. All of the extra things in our lives to keep us busy enough so we don’t have to listen to that constant ticking. So we don’t have to face that profound, penetrating reality that our time here is limited. Fleeting. Probing our consciousness of the lives that we are living.

That said, every once in a while, there comes a time when we are reminded of a deeper truth that we can’t run from. A time when a loved one passes away. Or a tragedy when a “superhero” athlete, children, and other innocent souls are suddenly taken from us. These are the moments that strike us deeply. These are the moments we feel the weight of sadness both for the loss of life and our powerlessness against the time that we thought we had.

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent for my faith tradition. On this day, Catholics are literally “marked” with a reminder of our limited time on earth. We confront our mortality and waywardness.

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Interestingly, this day is one of the most well-attended days in the Church outside of Easter and Christmas. It is not even a day of obligation, yet we come in masses. Maybe because, in some small way, it is a day that we consciously desire to hear the second hand ticking.

As I look now at my watch, I have about 20 minutes before I have to take our puppy outside, or I will be cleaning the floor of pee or poop. You might have only five minutes to read this blog, and you may already think it is taking too long. The fact of the matter is that we all are busy. Family, work, children’s activities, etc… all great things.

Time keeps going. The second-hand keeps ticking.

So now what?

Maybe it’s not about trying to stop the ticking, but instead, concentrate on it.

Hear it.

I mean really listen to it.

Let the ticking guide us to be present to others rather than distracted, to listen rather than be heard, to be kind rather than be right, to ask for forgiveness rather than judge, and to forgive rather than be locked up in resentment.

Let the ticking be a reminder:

To Live.

To Love.

To Be.

(And to now go clean up the pee on the rug)