My time is running out «. Fantastic post from a new-to-me writer. She touches on a topic that drives me, has driven me my whole life.
Her post elicited my (edited) response below.
I have been too aware of time’s passage since about the age of three, before the hands on the clock meant anything. I tried to wear a watch and gave it up before junior high school. With the addition of microwaves in homes, I grew impatient with myself for watching the seconds count down. My home has no clocks; it needs none. There are time keepers on my computer, cell phone, microwave, oven. My husband has the alarm clock for moments when it is necessary.
It is an urgency. For me it is a questioning of myself. Am I giving more than I’m taking, in all sense of the word—resources, ideas, perspectives, understanding, love, compassion.
Writing is frightening. It should be. With everything we write, we open ourselves to a little more transparency. I’m terrified of being known in this way but I cannot stop the flow. I have only the choice of whether my words appear or hide away someplace. More are hidden than revealed, I confess.
©2012 Sandra Davidson