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Like energy and happiness, time seems to come in short supply. It doesn't meet all the needs and wants that we ask of it. "So many books, so little time," is a magnet on our fridge. We have all heard variations on that theme (some of them crossing the line of good taste).
I was once asked to bring a creative product to share with the group. With no artistic, musical, or culinary talents, I struggled with what to bring. Eventually I made a collage representing the design and combination of activities in time. I described time as a canvas, activities as the palette of colors from which to choose. That metaphor still works for me, as I enjoy painting a picture on the canvas of a day far more than fighting again with the day planner (and losing).
Some blocks of time are a paint-by-number set. Many work days have that appearance. The shapes are in place, and little numbers correspond to predetermined colors: budget meeting (15), conference call (33), performance rating (07). As much as they frustrate freedom of expression, a quality paint-by-number project can be quite lovely. It represents a whole that makes a harmonious larger picture of smaller parts. A busy work day can also be pretty.
Other days are more like a coloring book. The lines are there, but we can choose any color we want to fill in the spaces. Maybe we get the giant box of crayons (do they still make crayons?) and we can pick burnt ochre, magenta, or peach as well as red, yellow, and blue. I think of the typical weekend as a coloring book. There are errands to run, family events, social occasions-the structure is there, but we have freedom to create our own shades and tones.
Then, there is the scary magic of a blank canvas! Maybe the rest of the family is at a soccer tournament, or we have the day off but everyone else is at work or school. Or--an example close to my heart--we retire. What to do? Pull out the paint-box and the imagination. Sketch a few lines to suggest a shape, then go for the color and the pattern and the image that arise from the vast depth of possibilities. Such a day can be as simple or as complex as you make it, and the definition of beautiful is left to you.
Time-as-art does not solve the problem of too many work or home or family tasks to fit into a day. It may, however, enrich the effort. If we see our day as a canvas, and strive to make each day beautiful in its own way, we may just have a burst of joy that would not otherwise appear.
What does that blank canvas suggest to you?
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