The ring of bells …..a bell to wake up, another for meals, one for study hour, another for classes to begin and one to mark the end of a class period; a bell to assemble, a bell to pause for grace after meals ….. had always, from a young age, for me, been the source of keeping time. As much as it was loathed at that point up until a good stretch of my growing up years, I must accede with it today.
A couple of detentions it took to make me yield to its sway over my tardiness. No bells now but if I have an eye on the clock at its every tick, I credit a great part of the repute to the strict diktat of the bell.
I have to confess to the realization that it is its influence that manipulates the running of my daily activities, both the simple and the not so simple.
Not a preference alone but a fond leaning toward this practice has set in, almost in the form of a dependency.
Dependency I say – with the intent to express that it now stands as strong as a need, an obsession and a compulsion.
As pleased as it makes me of my choice of marking time with the ‘tick-ticking’ of the minutes and seconds, a sneaking fear creeps in as I perceive a certain infuriating exasperation when at times I fail to keep up. Often bringing about reactions I cannot recognize in me. The frequency rising, warning signals ring out- this time around, alarmingly!
It needs attention- and soon.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Steadily my racing pulse begins to ease. The hands on the clock keep moving progressively on and I am tempted to jump to a start. I hold back and allow the seconds to turn to minutes and on to an hour.
I allow the sound soothe me to a lull.
A sense of calm descends. I soak in the quiet in my head and feel the soft rhythmic thump with an unruffled composed tranquility.
Time has moved on but together with it I have gained peaceful serenity and the ability to ruminate, contemplate and meditate on the goodness of taking time off for moments of unhurried deliberate.
