Читать книгу Opening the Door: Jan Frazier Teachings On Awakening - Jan Inc. Frazier - Страница 9

I used to want more time, but I don’t anymore. Not that I wouldn’t be glad of living a long life. It’s that I no longer experience time as being a scarce resource.

Really, I don’t experience time anymore, so it doesn’t occur to me to wish for more of what there doesn’t seem to be any of.

Time is greatly overrated. Nothing that happens in time is of real significance.

I used to want there to be more time in the day, more days to the week. This was not only because I couldn’t seem to get done everything that I wanted to do and needed to do. It was also because I liked the feeling of busy-ness.

What I wanted above all was for there to be more time in my life. I didn’t want to die, at least not if I could help it. At the very least, this meant putting off death as long as possible, and in the meantime, cramming as much as possible into the allotted time.

Why it stopped mattering about time had something to do with deep contentment moving in and taking over. This did not seem to require anything to keep it going. So what was more time going to get me? Nothing time had ever delivered came anywhere near to this for delight or fulfillment, not love or writing or admiration or learning or reading a great book or figuring out how to help my children be happy.

I think I used to want more time because I couldn’t really rest. I couldn’t rest from trying to find the perfect thing, reasoning that the perfect thing (which usually had to do with love) would make me perfectly happy.

I’ve given up trying to make me happy (or anybody else). It’s very restful. Somehow the things that need to get done seem to get done, without a lot of effort, and without feeling like there isn’t enough time. There always seems to be enough time. Plenty, really, since nothing that happens there matters all that much anyhow.

Once, I had the thought — maybe I’ll live to a hundred. In that case, my life would be just a little more than half over. It’s hard to imagine what life would be like after all that time. I wouldn’t be better off than I am now. Even so, the idea that I might have that many more years to live outside of time is breathtaking. I don’t know how you go about counting up years without being in time. It’s a bit of a conundrum. I mean, in the moment (to moment to moment), the flow of so-called time is not felt. Even so, when you look back, you can tell something’s happened. The face is wrinkly. The knees are creaky. A lot seems to have happened.