The Hours Are Ours

By now, perhaps like me, you've almost discovered all the clocks and assorted timepieces you didn't set back an hour on Saturday night/Sunday morning when Daylight Saving Time ended. 

You glanced at the dashboard display in the vehicle and your pulse raced for a moment this morning as you feared you were late for work or perhaps an assignation only to catch yourself and remember, perhaps smiling sheepishly in your rear-view mirror.

Look at the beasts of the earth and name me another who has created the artificial divisions of time we have. I'm hard pressed to think of another species wearing a wristwatch and who among them has an opposable thumb to hit the display button on the cell phone and learn the time? 

It's just us, the only species with the ways and means to destroy ourselves and the entire planet. Would seem to me that this might be a built-in incentive to invest this 'extra' hour in some manner of self-improvement or benefit to the planet.

The Persistence of Memory

Between now and Sunday March 11, 2018, when we next 'spring forward' we will have lived through about 3,000 hours, 180,000 minutes or (gulp!) 10,800,000 seconds (some more than others). Do you have plans for even one percent of all that time? Would you share them with me because all I have is what I'm doing right now, fretting at a keyboard.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing." Perhaps nothing more than the time to awaken from the dream of life and live.
-bill kenny