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You can’t help but notice how we train our children to be slaves to the clock. Elliott was only 6 weeks into kindergarten and the school made it clear they were starved for more time to teach. Our third grade is now their kindergarten, so she’s bringing home a book or 2 plus homework every single night. Don’t get me wrong, I like that she’s learning so quickly. She’s way smarter than I am, and she needs to be challenged. If I’m not careful though, their schedule becomes my schedule, and then I have to crack the whip to keep everything moving smoothly every morning. One of my fears is becoming that SUV-driving, triple-latte drinking, cell phone yelling, frenzied parent who over schedules their child’s life.

But wait, KC aren’t you a latte-drinking, cell phone yelling, texting, Nissan driving, frenzied parent who over schedules their own life? Yeah. Kinda.  I just don’t think Ms. Elliott needs my neurosis so early on. Gayle and I have had some fun, and some not so fun talks recently about the amount of stuff I take on. She said something very funny to me this morning. I dropped Ellie off at school, and then went for a run on the Tow Path (through the Metroparks).  I snuck a quick 2 mile run in, with a decent meditation in there as well. I felt really good when I walked through the door, with all sorts of good ideas bubbling to the surface.

Me: “I’m going to take Hamell up on the Andrew Bird tickets at Babeville in Buffalo. It’s too much of a killer opportunity to pass it up. We need to figure out how to make it happen.”

Gayle: “OK, but can you please stop talking like you’re on speed?”

Hahaha. Gayle’s other recent #1 funny ass quote was “Uh, why does the baby smell like balls?” Kills me every damn time. It was mysterious. I mean, where could that undesirable BALLISH smell come from? Weird. 😉

I am on speed sometimes, and I don’t seem to notice it. It’s not your pharmaceutical variety, but the running and the personal development and the meditation and the creative inspirado just grab me sometimes and shake the shit out of me. I may preach that even keel is the way to roll, but maybe I’m just too sensitive to astrological forces. My cycle is similar to most people: life changes, pushes me around a little, I find my new footing, and then I start going hog-wild in the new direction. There’s usually coffee involved, and there’s always some new level of inspirado, or something or someone to be inspired by. Yeah, I kind of like it that way. It would be easier on everyone who knows me if I was the perfect little methodical worker bee, diligently sowing the seeds to be reaped tomorrow and what not, but I’m not. We know me to be more of the Type-AA spaz variety, completely scattered for a Virgo, but also a burning and churning fireball of creative energy. We can only move forward with the tools we have to work with, and I’ve worked hard on releasing resistance to the less-than-savory aspects of myself.

Whatever the situations or cosmic forces, the challenges and upheavals arrive like glaciers or meteor showers. The processing either happens in the moment, or we lay low and dwell, refine, and regroup. All of the churning and burning has to produce exhaust in the form of energy you no longer need. Mine is my moodiness, my scattered agendas, my brooding intensity, and of course, my ultra-regular bowel movements. 🙂 But aren’t we ultimately rewarded on the light we bring to the world around us? The fact that by and large, everything around us does ultimately improve? I know that it must improve, because the things around me which I’m grateful for are reaching staggering proportions. The kids are smarter, funnier, and more beautiful every day. Our home is more of what we dreamed of, the money is better than ever despite the voices of turmoil, I’m more physically, emotionally, and spiritually fit than I was a year ago, 10 years ago, ever. It can feel uncomfortable for me to type those things, but I listened to Dan Bern’s song “Tiger Woods” the other night while I was painting the stairs: It ain’t bragging if it’s true. Mohammed Ali said that, back when he was Cassius Clay, before he fought too many fights, and left his brain inside the ring.

The Spastic Scatterbrain and the Relaxed Vibrator, for the complete lack of a suitable term, share this body, and share this life. They co-create this reality, most of which is pretty rad, despite my lofty expectations.

All I could think of on my run this morning was that it’s time to get serious again about Time Bending. Everything we’ve learned about the clock, about the finite amount of time to accomplish things, about beating the hell out of ourselves to please the construct of Clock Time, it can be altered to serve us. I’ve never provided for a family, finished an album, worked this hard, managed the up-keep on this much house, trained to run 26 miles, or built websites for my heroes before.  Not at the same time anyway. Why would I let a bullshit limitation like TIME keep me from pursuing those things? The only way to expand beyond the limitations we grow up believing is through bending time in our favor. There are people who seem younger than when you saw them 5 years ago, and there are people who seem to have aged 20 years. Who would you rather be?

Your life predominantly operates on a clock, and for most people it’s someone else’s. Make an effort to recognize how much stress, worry, and oppression this creates in your well-being, and then make a bigger effort to create loopholes for rejuvenation, contemplation, physical activity, planning, and inspiration. Their clocks can tick away.

Have fun with that you will say.

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