A lot of the work I do on myself, in myself, is about getting unstuck. Attachments. I am attached to you. That sounds innocuous. But then I get stuck, sticky, fused even. I lose myself a little. I have realized that my deepest attachment is to time. I am jealous of it, can‘t stand to be without it. My attachment to time leads to all the worry about the end of (my) time. I try to hoard it, which is like trying to make a fist around a palm full of water.
When I work with patients who are dying, I sometimes see them let go of this deepest of attachments. Then they become serene, all the way down. Their linear understanding of themselves dissolves and washes away. It turns into an oceanic awareness of themselves and the world. They hop off the one-way train tracks and are everywhere at once. Mostly they are in themselves.
Free of time is very different than free time. I don‘t have a lot of either, but I spend time trying to find the latter and missing the chances at embracing the former. I wring my hands about the inexorable tick tock, not overtly or even consciously, but I do it. I even worry about the time that has (apparently) passed. I say apparently because when I see my time-free patients they are not only free of the future time but also of the past-time. They teach me that the present is the gift. The other experts at this of course, are kiddos, but they are the unknowing perfect models. The ones who get there in spite of having been on the train for a while are my heroes.
The present is the gift.