Literal hands on a clock
As I sat in the art room of Aurora Behavioral Health unit I wondered what to draw. I had a big white piece of paper and some markers. This image flashed in my mind. It's something that is on my mind a lot: Time. We all wonder about time. How much time we have left. How much time we've spent. How much time we've wasted. For me, the hands seem to take a brief pause at high noon and 6:30. I find myself wondering what the next click will bring. Sometimes I'm thinking about 8:30 when I'm at 7:30 and by the time I arrive at 8:30 I'm thinking about 9:30. The most sacred and true time we really have is this very second. It's the only time that isn't distorted. We aren't left romanticizing about the past or predicting our futures. I drove to Nevada today and shut the radio off. I thought about my breathing. I watched my thoughts float by. In that moment I decided to think about the actual time. As humans, we seem wired to look everywhere but right on the road we are traveling. Catching a glimpse of miles ahead while completely unaware that we are the ones behind the steering wheel. Losing sight of the actual journey. I like time. Living with mental illness, I see what time does. It really does spin around and around. I use to always worry about the turning of the hands but now I see it as all part of the process. Ok. Time to stop writing now.