Hourglass half full

I’m sure Batman had it: the evil villain putting an innocent person in the hourglass.

The bottom of the hourglass. And she must be saved before the sand trickles through and she is suffocated.

There is nothing she can do. She trapped and time is passing in the form of tiny grains coming to kill her.

I’ve been watching grains of sand. I’m not in the hourglass I don’t think. But those grains mean something. They mean loss. Every single one of them. Lost opportunity. Lost resource.


And now I’ve lost another grain to worrying about the loss. Maybe I am stuck in the bottom of the hourglass, because when the sand is gone it’s gone.

That’s what worry is like. The time lost and lost again because I pick it up and recreate the loss by running it through my fingers.

I want out of the hourglass.

When I have a routine I can pay attention to all the other little things going on, and not mourn the sand. After all, it is the way of all things.

John Wooden said “Never mistake activity for achievement”

I suppose the inverse is true. Never mistake achievement for activity.

Spinning in a panic at the bottom of an hourglass, I could use a little numbing activity.

Or maybe I should look around. It turns out that I’m not in the bottom of an hourglass after all. Just because sand is bouncing off my head into my face doesn’t mean I’m in the hourglass.

Once I get out of that distraction, out of the sandfall, I can see that I’m not in a bottle.

There is a wide world out there. I can go see what I can do to enjoy it.