Time to Think

Dylan - Tipton, Indiana
Entered on May 17, 2008

I used to be the busiest kid one could ever imagine. Although I lived in a small town where it seemed as if not much was ever happening, society somehow demanded my daily agenda to be so packed. I hated going to bed with an unfinished to do list hovering over my head. I was always telling my momma I wished I had more time. I was troubled by it, perplexed. You know, where you wish no one would have ever invented time or sleep. I was told that I needed to slow down, but I didn’t want to simply follow the “stop and smell the roses” cliché. Finding alone time didn’t make sense to me, because I was always on the run. About a year ago, I fortuitously bought a new hammock . It was crafted with two pieces of beautiful wood slung together by an intricate web work of ropes, strings and knots. My dad and I tied it betwixt two sugar maples at the far end of my spacious backyard. I remember being alone the first time I laid in my hammock. I immediately unwound and felt pure. There were no external forces telling me what to believe or not believe. I was free to think of what I truly believed in. I never thought I could think so deeply, and I found a relation between time and wisdom. I believed I could be wise. Every time I laid in my peaceful hammock I formed many golden rules, and expounded upon them and wrote them down. I created a moral compass including Bible verses and other virtues. Since then, I’ve filled a notebook with little this I believe paragraphs concerning my morals and spiritual values. My thinking process got more meticulous as I pondered my flaws. I’d map out everything in the nooks and crannies of my brain like stepping stones, always thinking there was room for improvement, and never running out of time. If I felt a weakness such as selfishness, I’d slow my step over those stones and ask God for a deeper understanding. I have only slowly come believe that isolating a piece of time from every day to be inspired is a gateway to wisdom. We must realize the unimportance of time, and step out of it for a breather, long enough to search ourselves, with the help of God, for those admirable aspects we want deep down. Now, I’ll always have a lot on my plate to prioritize; family, faith, football, girls, and schoolwork: however, I know my special hammock will always be waiting for me to lay down a while and think. I should always have a place to call my own, where it is not completely silent, but there is a soothing breeze in my ear that also gently rocks me in its warm embrace, and it is not seconds that define the moment, but the serenity found through wise imagination. Echo, my hammock, helped me discover this.