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Wit and Wisdomby Beth Broderick“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them.” -Jim CroceHe died in a plane crash at the age of 30. Today is Tuesday. I am supposed to be in your inbox with this piece of insightful prose, but I ran out of time. After returning from a four-day work trip to Scotland and the ensuing brief recovery period, during which dog food supply was replenished and groceries were put in cabinets. I hit the road again, yesterday, which was Monday. I gathered up my belongings and got on a flight to Washington D.C. with the full intention of finishing these thoughts on the plane. I got out the laptop, determined to write, in spite of my drooping eyelids and impossible-to-stifle yawns, but the focus puller inside my brain went on strike. I closed the book and let myself drift off. I set an alarm for 60 minutes, which, when it rang, was met with my dismay and promptly disengaged. I slept 31/2 hours out of the 41/2 it took to get from Los Angeles to Raleigh-Durham. (I have been to Raleigh but never Durham. Is there a Durham? There would have to be, I suppose, but you could not prove it by me.) By the time I made the connecting flight, I had surrendered the idea of getting any work done. When the stewardess asked me if I would like something to drink, I said:“Yes. Thank you. A Chardonnay please.” I have been thinking about time lately. This may be because I seem to have had a shortage of it in recent days. I feel like I am running to keep up and yet falling, falling behind. This is just a feeling, of course. In the main, things are getting done--well, mostly. I have missed a step here and there, this essay being a prime example. And then there was this:It was in Europe that it came to my attention that I forgot to pad upstairs and place a rent check in the mailbox outside the door of the building’s managers. Dang it. I am always, always on time; I pay the rent on the first day of every month like clockwork. It just got overlooked. Oddly, check is the only form of payment they will accept. I could have called in a credit card number or handled it in any one of the newfangled ways that we exchange funds these days, but no. They needed a check. This meant that I was not on time. I WAS LATE, and I hate that.Time.A four-day trip to and from the U.K. promised to be, and was, a travel challenge, one I am always ready to accept. I love tricking time into doing my bidding. I am determined to find ways to outsmart it and avoid the attendant jet lag and physical disturbances that can accompany such long journeys. My three rules for surviving and thriving while enduring nearly 18 to 20 or more hours of travel time are:1. Don’t look at your watch. Whatever time it is where you are in flight and when you land … that is what time it is. Period. 2. Don’t go to sleep. Stay up until bedtime in your new time zone. One 45-minute nap is allowable, but no more.3. Do not stress about being tired. Being a bit tired is okay. You will catch up and feel just fine if you follow rules 1 and 2. Stressing about being tired is making you more tired. Lighten up. You will survive. It’s only life.The (A)Theory) of time posits that time exists, whether or not there are any observers to confirm this reality.The (B) Theory) states that time only exists because we believe that it does and observe the passing of it and document that accordingly. BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.I have heard stories of people being visited by their loved ones who have passed, where the departed insists that there is no such thing as time. This is a common pearl of wisdom that is imparted from the great beyond to us mere mortals via mediums and seers.“There is no such thing as time.” Our loved ones admonish from the shrouds of mystery surrounding the disappearance of their mortal being. All-righty then. Don’t get me wrong; I want to believe them. I am a believer, sort of, a believer of sorts.After the passing of my beloved dog Roxy, I hired a pet communicator to help me speak with her and work through my grief.“It is time,” The doctor had said with an assuring mix of authority and empathy. “She has lived well beyond her expected years. She needs you to let her go now.”“I have loved you so much,” I repeated over and over as the medication spread through her system, taking her from me.I guess I just needed to make sure that she understood, so I hired Susan to talk to her. The communicator assured me that Roxy knew I loved her. She told the medium the exact time that she had begun to bleed internally (which was incredibly accurate). Then came an odd question from the woman:“Has your stomach been bothering you? Roxy says you have been in pain.” “Huh. Yes,” I answered. “I mean I have been having cramps and pains. I have been to a doctor about it, and they are running tests.”“Stop drinking coffee. Roxy says it’s the coffee that’s making you sick.”My dog did not get into any of the existential topics that seem to accompany human visitations. She said she knew when and why she died and gave me health advice. Not a peep about the concept of time being real or a fabrication. So it was that I gave up coffee because dear dead dog told me to. A believer, like I said. I drink tea now, and I am okay with that, and I do, in fact, feel better and direct my thanks skyward to my lovely old pup. I think of her every time I brew a pot. So, time. There are so many conflicting messages about it. “Do it while there is still time!” (Hurry! This sale, this day, this LIFE of yours won’t last!)“He had too much time on his hands!” (And now look what’s happened.)“No time like the present.” (Our dearly departed take exception to this.)“Always be on time!” (Miss Manners, now Ms., says so.)“They are in a different time zone.” (Evidence of the distance between us.)“His time had come.” (92 or no, my dad was not particularly welcoming of that idea.)CARPE DIEM.Time is weird. We, as a species, are woefully preoccupied with it.For instance, there are a gajillion self-help books on how to manage it. Time-management is a thing—an important thing, we are repeatedly told. The wise and efficient use of one’s time is one of the keys to a successful life. (Whatever that is. A successful life? How exactly do we measure that?)So, time, which may or may not exist, has been giving me fits. My “management skills” are found to be wanting. My attempts to trick it and skip a day or so of sleep flamed out in Row three on DL 659 when exhaustion won the hour—or hours as it were. Deciding how best to spend my time, the time I have left on this earthly plane, is complicated.Time may not be real, but at the age of 65, I have lost enough loved ones to know that death is one thing we can be absolutely sure of. If I am crazy lucky and match my Pop’s endurance record, that would give me about 27 years left in this joint. After this last very impactful birthday, I was curious about how I would be moving through life going forward. Would I want to do less, pull back, be more meditative? Apparently not. Full speed ahead seems to be the current trajectory. There may come a day when I just want to sit back and watch the world go by, but for now, I am enjoying being engaged in a variety of professional pursuits. I am hardwired to achieve. This has been my M.O. from the get-go, and that is all well and good, but I am aware that I need to make more time to nourish my spirit side, to meditate, and pray, and dream.What do I really want? How best to spend these remaining years? I am only beginning to wonder and have no set answers. The one thing I know I want: to sometimes just … be.To make time for time, while there is still time.On we go …We extend our heartfelt gratitude to our valued subscribers whose support makes the publication of Wit and Wisdom possible. Thank you! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bethbroderick.substack.com/subscribe