Broken Pitcher

Somber grays fill the sleepy sky in puffs and wisps. Its pallor, little to behold.   Then morning’s blush rises and washes away the gray and as it blooms, gold and fiery orange begin their dance upon the clouds.  First one, then the other, each rising in crescendo before giving way to each other, and wakes the sky.   Shaking off its solemn rest the horizon begins to glow yellow-green, then vivid fuchsia ignites the whole of it behind the tango celebrating the arrival of day.    And deep blue and dusty plum envelope to calm the sky fire and playful pink lights here and there, until the purest of gold is left awaiting the moment.    From horizon to horizon the colors play until the blue snaps brightly to attention and wisps and strokes reflect brilliant white.    The orb rises slowly, stretching far, burning off any remaining hue, demanding our gaze be turned away from the beauty.    ...

The world will tell you that “time is money.” In part, it’s true.  Every moment is precious and we can only spend it once.  We sell off bits of the gift of time, our life, to buy things that we think add to our happiness here.  I don’t know about you, but I’ve become dissatisfied with this exchange.  This spending of the most precious to gain the fleeting.  I’ve not bought into the American “bigger/more is better” but it’s so easy to just slip into the daily-ness of life here that we can’t remember how we actually spent the past week, month, year…  Same old, same old as the sand slips quickly through the hourglass.  Oh, wealth can afford you to hire people to free up some of your time, but you have to maintain the wealth, that takes time.  But what if I told you that you could buy more time. How much would you want? What would you be willing to sell to buy it? The paradigm shift comes when you realize that Time   is the most ...