This past week I found my self arriving at work only to find that I was not wearing my watch, and it left me feeling unnerved. It’s a heavy watch and it keeps perfect time. It’s beautiful, meaningful and I feel like something is missing when it isn’t on my left wrist. It fits perfectly, without spinning or snagging any clothing. It’s art-deco inspired design appeals to me and I can say it is one of my favorite accessory / jewelry items that I own.
The funny thing is that I forgot it because I was rushing. I ran out of time. What was upsetting to me was how often I kept glancing down at my wrist during the day, bothered by not knowing the exact time. Although the time is on my computer, phone and wall clock somewhere in the office, I like having it right in front of me. It allows me to subtly glance down to see just how long a person is speaking, a meeting is running, or a task is taking. I am so adept at it that no one even notices me doing it. I was unaware how addicted to the behavior I was until I could no longer do it in my work environment.
What I thought I missed most was having my favorite item on, but what I really missed most was the control, or appearance of control it provided me. Coming face to face with that realization disturbed me. If the pace we keep is so structured, rushed and accounted for that the absence of monitoring the moments feels uncomfortable, things have to change. Life may be designed to be that way at times, but we certainly are not.
The next morning was another rush of unexpected interruptions, and wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to put my watch on. I arrived at work, noticed it and laughed aloud. Thanking the universe for another shot at relinquishing the need to note the amount of time spent during every interaction, I made it a point to be at peace with it. I even noticed others doing what I usually do, and realized that I was taking yet another tiny step in a healthier direction.
There is really no control, there is only time. Trying to control the time is like attempting to catch all of the air in the room with two hands, an exercise in futility. I went to work with my watch on the following day, slowing down enough to remember it and wising up enough to not pay it so much attention. It looked great with my outfit, and that was enough for me.