The Impossible Illusion: Why You Can’t 'Catch Up' on Time and How to Start Creating Your Future

A Fall Equinox reflection and Seven-book FREE Giveaway

Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

When I was seventeen and totally sleep-deprived on a Saturday morning, my irritating, irrational dad refused to let me snooze until noon. No doubt to pile it on, he pounded on my closed bedroom door at the ungodly hour of 10:30 am. Yet, when I reasonably groaned that I had to catch up on sleep, he didn't tiptoe away as a caring father should.

Instead... he opened the door to announce, “You cannot catch up. That time is gone. There is no such thing.”

Then, like a dramatic exclamation point, he thrust open my bedroom curtains, flooding bright sunlight onto my scrunched face, and announced, “Time’s wasting!”

Startled, I staggered up. Not from the annoying light, but from the logic. Damn. He'd pierced my illusion. I could not recapture hours from the past; worse, I was actively compromising my future.

A future self I cared deeply about.

Funny how dad’s words have returned to me now. They are resonating again.

No matter how we long for it—whether it’s a moment of rest or a moment with a loved one who is gone—we cannot go back. The past is fixed. Instead, what we have is the future. And, happily, as physicist Niels Bohr pointed out, “We are not measuring the world, we are creating it.”

Every choice we make, every action we take, ripples out. The future isn't created alone; it is created by us—by this sister, this brother, this community. As the saying goes, the sum is greater than the whole of its parts.

I’ve been stuck for a while—not in a creative rut, but in a new form of time-wasting. On the one hand, I’ve been looking for the spark of my next book. On the other, I’ve been letting external events manipulate my attention. Am I stuck wishing for the past? Am I caught in a whirlpool of worry about why bad actors are acting? To me, this flailing about feels like another wasted morning.

Instead of compromising our future—the future we all care deeply about—I’m trying to rouse myself. This week’s given me the terrific symbolic action of the Fall Equinox. September 22 marks the transition to shorter days and longer nights—a time to practice what my father preached: release what’s stagnant and accept that we must go forward.

In this spirit, here’s a snippet from the Fall Equinox journaling I’ve done on what I’m grateful for from the past six months.

• Welcoming a darling new granddaughter.

  
  

• Restarting my (gulp!) golf game.

  
  

• Clearing my jammed bookshelves (of course, to make way for more).

  
  

• The inspiration, example, tenacity, and support of my sister authors.

  
  

• Keeping a lifelong promise to myself by publishing my book, Saving Vincent, A Novel of Jo van Gogh, in April.

  
  

• The innovative talents of graphic designers, marketing strategists, website whizzes, and publishing pros.

  
  

• Peacefully witnessing and walking in protest of policies I disagree with, including this past weekend’s Sun Day (see Bob McKinnon).

  
  

• Being alerted to the inspired determination of global sisters and brothers through clear-eyed, frank reporting (e.g., Ana Hebra Flaster on Cuba and Timothy Snyder on Ukraine).

• The fact that this weekly post gives me a voice.

  
  

• Especially: The friends, readers, and Van Gogh fans (Jo’s and Vincent’s) who have bought my book, come to my talks, requested it at libraries and indie bookstores, and left reviews. It truly takes a village

Happy to be moving forward with you.

Warmly,