Those who feel tortured by the summer’s heat yearn for the full moon of autumn, without even fearing the idea that a hundred days of their life will then have passed forever.”
. . . relentless, unstoppable, relative, devoid of any intrinsic identity . . . but certainly our most precious commodity, the only one that never gets back to us. And yet, sometimes, we allow it to slip through our fingers without ever realizing it.
Using it has nothing to do with how busy we think we are; but it is rather as relative as making use of it in what is meaningful to ourselves. Wasting it, as grave as postponing things that are essential in our lives, letting it flow without even noticing. . .
There is no way of protecting us from its relentless flow . . . Nevertheless, we can decide more mindfully about how we use the portion of it that has been given to us. This choice is -always and in every moment- present in our lives.