Have you ever waited for the perfect timing?
There’s this concept which floats in and out of us as naturally as the air we breathe. It does so pretty much all our lives and influences our decisions. Inhale, this concept of waiting, waiting for the perfect time, and exhale.
It can be waiting for the sun to set for that perfect silhouette. Waiting for the water to boil before you crack an egg. Waiting for the right stride to ask the horse below you to pick up pace. Waiting for the autumn leaves to fall just long enough so you can hear the crunch below your step and simultaneously smell the fresh green. Waiting for the rain to shower the sun and in a moment watch them together paint a symphony of colours. Waiting for your heart to settle so you can commit to the one who steals your sleep. Lying with your head on a beating chest, listening and waiting, before you look back and say, I love you too.
Some waiting is longer than others. Some waiting comes to an end with obvious signs like the sky changing to the most fiery orange or bubbles rising on a stove. What of when we wait for the time for which there are no signs, when the right time has no evidence other than existing in our inner dance of rationale and emotion. What if our scars cloud our judgement making our connection to that inner dialogue a little fuzzy. Say we made choices at what felt like the right time, but with time, our world comes crashing down anyway. What if you have a wild heart battling a sound mind, and they never come to an agreement, and you misunderstand this as meaning it’s not the right time. What if you lose trust, your confidence destroyed as time unravels your choices, is it the patterns of time in our decisions that we ought to look to, or the people, places and experiences that should be held accountable for the pain. Is timing ever an issue or is the issue that we start to hide behind timing, given that it’s time that shows us how beautiful and tragic life can really be. It’s time that holds up a mirror to show us what’s really real, there’s no cheating time which is as clear as our own reflection on moonlit water. Time reveals all, and so perhaps, we hide a little from what we need a breath from before we could ever see again. For some things can’t ever be unseen, and continue like shadows along our memories’ wall.
As we get older and life gets busier we dig our heels in deeper with responsibility, and throw down anchors. How do we know as we set sail in pursuit of happiness if it’s time to embark on something that could hail a storm across our ocean. Time we know won’t show us the mirror reflection of our choices until we choose them and take the risk. What’s a canvas without colour, what’s life without chance? Waiting isn’t a waste of time if you know what you are waiting for, with hope and faith. Waiting for time though, blind to what is sometimes right in front of you, perhaps a waste. Peek behind the veil of fear, and take a look at what you really want.
I sometimes skip to the end of a book if the anxiety of turning the pages proves too much. Patience is a virtue I know, but once I know the end, I enjoy the pages just the same, with a little more calm. The joy is still in those pages, but the calm comes from knowing the end. Looking at timing with similar impatience can be forgivable for the lesson it unearths. We wait for the perfect time often to achieve a perfect outcome. The perfect silhouette. The perfect breakfast. So if the perfect whatever it is has arrived, per chance and caught you unprepared, hush the noise and realise, perhaps that means this is the perfect time. The ending will be whatever is written, wanting to know it is natural, but entirely unnecessary to enjoy the story. The perfect time often happens when we mind our business and do nothing at all. We fall pregnant, we get offered a job, we meet someone; it’s time who is the culprit for these things, and time is not perfect, or it is. The conclusion of this conundrum lies in our perspective and circumstance this minute, right now. Sometimes, the perfection we look for is what is being offered, and we ought not confuse ourselves by analysing the hour at which it comes. Pain is a risk of living.
Why do we wait for the perfect time. The perfect time for that first kiss, first love, first baby and so on. We put so much pressure as our expectations grow with anticipation, leaving us somewhere where something or the other will always feel not quite right. Perfection is of course not reality, nobody “woke up like that”. The onus on timing seems to increase once our firsts become seconds or thirds or fourths or more, with our minds and bodies weary under the slow realisations chipping away at our ideals showing us that our wait for the perfect time is as misunderstood as a princess actually needing a prince to save her. What are we waiting for? We have everything we need if we just stop in our present and realise our power, even at our weakest. We are already here, we have real outcomes, perfect or not, happening every day, meaning we live in the perfect time every minute. Now. Now is what we have full control of. Worrying about the end is a waste of our now, for it will be as it has been written. Not choosing and not acting stunts our narrative; how can a story swirl in the wind if we shy away from writing anything at all. Living is the only way to leave fingerprints of our bravery so that even after our ending, we live on, and on, and on, in the writings in the minds of those we touched in our time.
Fear, I see you. I hear you whisper, “What if I act, but things don’t work? Would it have worked if I waited? Was the timing not right?”. What influences what happens lies in our behaviour, our communication, our priorities and our commitment. All of these are in our control in the present. Now is the perfect time to influence ourselves positively, waiting wouldn’t help anything. Choosing whatever it is you want would change everything. Fear, I see you again, telling me I’m not ready. The words “I’m not ready” are connotative of it not being the right time. Is this true? Not being ready exists separate to the perfect time, it is us that are not ready, not time. You can not be ready for any amount of time you need, and being ready would in itself perhaps mean, it’s time; perfection irrelevant. So let’s ask ourselves, are you ready for the thing that you want timing to be perfect for? Are you ready to learn a new language? Love a new love? Start a new business? Have another baby? Now, in this present. Are you ready? Time is always ready. Time in this context is always perfect. Forget about timing, focus on you.
We deter ourselves sometimes from choices we later regret, while we wait for this perfect time. Time though, it’s not perfect, or perhaps it’s always perfect as it’s ever so steady, much like a stream, until we step into it causing those beautiful ripples. The fun though is to be had in the water, not looking at it, or perhaps beauty is found in both moments in time, depending on variables that matter more than time itself. Regardless, time is just time. There are good times, bad times, and times which tell us what we should be doing with our day. Time to eat, time to sleep, time to travel or time to shop. Time stops for nothing. Sometime we conform to time, and sometimes time conforms to us. Time is limited. Time changes, or more accurately we change with time. Time rotates around the hands of a clock, and time rotates us as we grow old from our childhoods, and then young again while we bathe in the childhoods of those we love which to me is the only real fountain of youth. Time revolves and holding it to perfection is almost as bizarre as waiting for the sun and moon to finally collide.
Time is yours. Time is mine. Time can be shared. In any case, time can’t be taken back. So be selfish with your time. Be mindful of your time. Trust that time is not perfect, and it is perfect. Time is now So what are you waiting for?