Why is it so ingrained in us? Is is the fear of death, of non-existence? Is our relationship to time inborn, or culturally nurtured? I tend to think it is a little of both actually. My experience in a variety of other cultures has shown me that we need not be as time (and therefore youth and death) obsessed as we are taught to be in the West. I have learned that the present and eternity can be one and the same, and I have learned to find peace in the now. And yet, this tick-tock is still largely my frame, no matter how much I try to break free of it. I know in my head that time obsession is a frame of mind, yet deep inside me its imagined importance keeps creeping, and rearing it’s ugly head on occasion. As June 10th (the day I fly to LA) approaches, I feel the weight of some unknown decision that some part of me is telling myself I must make. Will I return to Mexico in a month or two (to continue learning Spanish and work for a time)? Will I take a job in the US? Will it be in SF, LA, NYC? Will I take the rest of my savings and travel South America? Will I return to a job in technology (the easiest path) or will I try to work as a writer or something else?
Part of the reasons these are weighing on me a bit is that a date (June 10th) is approaching. And part of the reason is that I feel at a crossroads and don’t know what I want. But really I am not bound (at least not yet) by anything other than some self imposed perception. I don’t really have to do anything until my savings run out, and that won’t be for at least another 6 months. My wiser, inner self is telling me to chill out.