LOVE, Kloudiia

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock.

Second by second, the clock ticks and tocks along, and with it, our time on this earth.

The clock in our living room broke down for the past two months or so, and everyone at home felt ill at ease without this little mini antique-like teapot clock hung up on the wall, at one o’clock position from the TV set, doing what it was borne to do.

I was so used to glancing up at that direction, and I would do that every two minutes–at most five minutes–or so. Imagine those times when I glimpsed up and saw a clock face with two hands froze in motion, like two dancers who have taken a drug by mistake and was frozen in the position where one part of their bodies is connected while the other is stretched out in an awkward grace.

The clock has stopped ticking, and my sense of time was disrupted. I felt really, really, uncomfortable. Not knowing the time proved to be such an agony for me, as I’ve come to realise from this incident.

Why is knowing the time so important for me? I asked myself repeatedly, why?

Is it because I like to be punctual for my appointments? Is it because I don’t wish to miss my TV shows? To know how much time has passed and what have I done during that period? To just know the time for the sake of wanting to know? Or is it simply a habitual act?

I believe if all these possibilities came out from my own questioning and reflection, they must all have a role to play in my acute need to read the time. But, which one is the most crucial?

Mum brought out the clock in her room–until she got the teapot fixed–and hung it up. This morning, the two dancers are finally “thawed”–possibly by some kind-hearted magician who broke the spell–moving in a liquid and joyful grace, at a beautiful rhythmn: tick tock, tick tock …

I am pleased. My world has resumed to normalcy.

I think, I am overly-attached to time.

It’s like watching the time ticking away, being keenly aware of the next-second, next-minute, next-hour future approaching, and not paying attention to the present-second, present-minute and present-hour becoming history. This reminds me of salivating over your neighbour’s food in the restaurant and not savouring over your own on your table.

If I were able to let go,  just let go for a minute, to not know the time, to just be as present in whatever I’m doing, in whoever I am at that moment, it might be a totally refreshing experience.

Just like leaving your mobile phone in the closet while you go for a resort holiday.

The concept is the same.

It’s about letting go of your attachment to the worldly things, and reconnecting to your inner-self in a world where time is infinite.

What are your views?