Life is a puzzle; we are the clues, and God is the answer.
On the average, I work 14 hours a day, six times a week, and stay in the office 130 hours of the 168-hour week. I should say that at the end of each week I am toxic and dead tired. I am, but only physically. Deep inside, there is an unexplainable feeling of restlessness that arrests me when I am most vulnerable—a restlessness that not even my exhausted body could suppress; a restlessness that fuels my spirit to soar high; and a restlessness that makes me believe that there is so much to do, in so little a time.;
Sometimes I feel as though I am in constant race against Time, and that Time somehow manages to occasionally pull my leg by throwing at me extreme feelings of loneliness or happiness that make me want to stop and either enjoy life or wallow in misery. And when I do, I’d soon realize that I’d been tricked, and that Time had run so far ahead that I could barely catch up.:
So I’d put myself back on gear again, exerting every strength I could muster, running as fast as I could, wanting to overcome Time and win the game. But even the most determined soul has its limitations. I too, am not immune to these. In every step I’d made, there had always been something in the way that I had to face before I could make another step. On most occasions, I’d had to move sideward in order to move forward.;
“What am I to do? Am I not lucky that I have reached this far despite the things I had to go through? So I have not reached that which I’ve set out to achieve, but then, they weren’t realistic in the first place. Hey, I’ve managed to pull out of every catastrophe thrown my way!” So there go the excuses I’d made for myself for the little-above-satisfactory performance I’d put in. Tsk!;
But who the heck am I kidding? If I am to be honest, I’d admit that I had not truly exhausted all the possible options I could have taken, that I had let myself be detained by my perceived limitations, and that I had foolishly succumbed to the fearful little voice inside me which kept asking, “What happens if you fail?” And so I’ve been extremely careful in all my steps. Where I should have leapt, I opted to look first, until fear of what might happen had enveloped me that I eventually lost the courage to jump. Where I should have readily moved on, I chose to look back and what I saw either tied me to the past or made me be wary of what might be ahead, that in my moments of indecision, good opportunities had passed me by. Where I should have confidently taken over, I had let other people take control of the things that directly affected me, until I realized a little too late that I could have done the job much better.:
It’s not yet late, though. One thing that I have learned lately about the concept of time is that, when seen in a different perspective, perhaps in the long-term scale, there really is no such thing as being too early or too late. This I say, because for years I kept postponing doing something I’ve always wanted to do, thinking that it was too early and that I was too young. So I waited for it to happen in its right time. Or shall I say, I waited for Opportunity to come knocking at my door and hand me the assurance that the odds were on my side. But it never came. Before I knew it, Time had already passed me by.;Then, I thought that it was already too late, that I was too old, and that I may never make it. For some time, I let myself believe these. Until lately, I came to understand that it is not Time that chooses when it is perfect for things to happen; it is I who should make Time be right for what I want to happen.;So now I am working double time to make up for the lost time. Soon, I’d be side by side with Time again. Who knows, I might even be able to trick him into slowing down a little. That should not be too hard. I have already started. So much more shall happen. Simply because I’ve decided it’s time
.//Sherma E. Benosa; 22 December 2003
*I have been told once that time is not something to race against, rather, travel with—a wisdom of age that (not so) young people like myself have yet to learn. Part of me wants to slow down and find time to smell the flowers and live each day as it comes. But then, the other part of me would not want to look back to this day when I am much older and count all the opportunities I’ve missed because I’ve been busy romancing the sunset that I didn’t recognize them when they presented themselves to me. I would not want to find myself wishing to turn back time to do the things I should have done. There is nothing more tragic, I think, than to have might-have-beens and if-onlys one too many. Regret is that one thing I don’t look forward to dealing with.