It's a Matter of Time

"Time is on my side, yes it is."

-Rolling Stones

The concept of "time" is precarious to me. On the one hand (heh heh... Get it?), what you do with your time is your own. You decide how to spend your minutes. On the other hand, there are things that Timing decides all on It's own. 

When I think about who I was five or six years ago, I marvel at how different I've become. I most definitely have discovered intricacies about my identity that never would have surfaced had certain events taken place or not taken place in the past few years. What I find most liberating is that finally, after living for twenty some-odd years, I have finally allowed myself to feel what I want to feel and think what I want to think without the impediment of being concerned about how it may be perceived by others. (You'd think that would have ended with high school, but alas.) I'm oh so grateful for this awakening, this truth, this discovery. Now that I know and am certain about who I am and who I am trying to be, I wake up each morning confident in my pursuits and my passions and find so much joy in the journey of that becoming.

 In years past, those years when I was still in search of "my muchness" (to borrow a phrase from Wonderland), even though I wasn't aware I was in search of it, I let my insecurities and unknowns dictate my decisions. I found comfort in clinging to the parts of myself that were somewhat abrasive, because that sanctioned my emotional safety. Basically, I would not accept new possibility if it somehow didn't fit into my realm of what I thought I wanted, in every facet of my life. I stayed at a mundane and excruciatingly mindless job because it was familiar. I lived in the same apartment complex for four years because it was familiar. I dated the same guy, in varying physical forms, because, it was, familiar. I somehow convinced myself that familiarity was what my soul needed, and so I clung to it. So in the time it took for me to relinquish that familiarity and allow myself to spread my wings, so to speak, in retrospect I realize I have passed up on some seemingly good opportunities because they didn't conform to what I thought was altogether necessary for my happiness. So this begs the question, are some experiences, when refused, gone forever? Or, can they come again, maybe reincarnated in another form? Or, cross your fingers, simply return for a second chance? 

I've been pondering on this concept a lot the last few days; lost experiences. And I have to wonder: How much does Timing really factor in? If a situation presents itself and you don't feel ready or willing or inclined to take it, but Time passes and identity blossoms and for whatever reason you are compelled to remember that potential situation and all of a sudden feel that it has been lost because of your emotional ineptitude or fear or whatever it may be, is that it? Game Over? Did you blow it? Or, on the extreme converse end of argument's sake, is there a divine purpose behind things like this and, it simply equates to the fact that you weren't prepared on whatever level to accept that situation but after the refining workings of Time, you now are ready for it, whatever "it" is, and so you get a second chance? (Have I ever mentioned what a devoted fan I am of second chances?) This is what I mean by the precariousness of Time. On one hand, I decided how to spend my time, how to react with the gifts Time was granting me, either accepting or denying them. But on the other hand, of the opportunities I did accept which did not flourish, could those be attributed to Timing as well? In other words, was Timing to blame for those experiences not being as fruitful as they could have been? And conversely,does Timing also look longingly upon opportunities lost and thus warrant a Round Two for the opportunities I didn't accept because of who I was, but would jump through hoops for now because of who I am?
 { Cue hopeful clasping of hands and batting of eyelashes}

As I think about who I have been and am and am trying to be, the frugality of how I spend my time seems more vital than ever. I've felt a certain disquietude as of late, feeling like I've robbed myself of certain experiences and people and you-name-its because I have been insecure and scared and overly-cautious when I should have been casual and underly-cautious when I should have been meticulous. And yes, these emotional stigmatas were obviously intrinsic and somewhat involuntary, but that's who I was at that time. I reacted or under-reacted to my opportunities because of the person that I was then. Given some of those opportunities now, I would react so much differently, because of the Brittany that I have evolved into. And I think the restlessness stems from this whole concept of Time and Timing and how I feel that they are somewhat cruel masters. And, if there was a way to beg each of them for certain second chances, Oh Delilah- I'd sell my soul. That probably doesn't hold a lot of weight since I'd sell my soul for lots of things (and probably have, actually), but still... 
I guess all I can really do is be absolutely well-intended with the Time I spend, and hope against hope that Timing is as big a fan of second chances as I am.


Peace and Love.