Want to know how you can slow down time? Wish for something. Want to make your week last as long as possible? Wish for the weekend. I swear my hair stops growing the moment I wish it was longer and I could make time go twice as slow by wishing it were 5 pm, the next weekend with no plans, the Spring, the third season of House of Cards.
Measuring time by things I’m looking forward to is the most ironic thing because I make the waiting last forever as the things I enjoy race past me.
Here though, time is the strangest thing. We don’t have weekends to look forward to, because every day is a weekend. We don’t have a climbing trip to look forward to, because we’re always on one. We don’t have good weather to look forward to, or good food to look forward to, or even a full nights rest because we can have those things whenever we want them. So because we’re not wishing for anything, we don’t elongate or stunt time; we just watch the minutes and experiences pass by steadily, as if sliding by us on a conveyor belt.
Somewhere I read a really cool description of how time passes when traveling; its as if we’re in a car looking out at the horizon and time seems to move so slowly, but then you look out the side window and its zooming past and you’re unable to slow down or to stop the car and stretch a minute out any longer than it’s supposed to.
When I think about traveling for a year and a half, it seems like forever, but when I stop to realize its already been a month, its seems like its already going too fast. The breezy mornings, the tides, the long climbs, and the days of this trip pass by whether we want them to or not. The only way I’ve found to slow time here is to slow down myself, and take in the smallest details around me. It’s impossible to reach out and stop the sun that keeps falling into the horizon too fast, so we just try to watch as many sunsets as possible. We take the long way home to check in on how our neighbor spider's web has been faring in the wind, or to watch an ant to haul something four times its size across our bungalow porch. Anything to slow time and not miss a single moment of this trip.
[Full disclosure: I’ve never been accused of being a time person. Even though my former job as a project manager demanded that I keep a schedule, I rarely followed one outside of work. Being aware of how long something realistically takes has never been my strong suit so I’m usually a bit, okay always late. So this could be a rambly bambly load of garbage from a person who has on more than one occassion snuck in the last pew after the bride walked down the aisle.]