Where do you find the time?

Unencumbered for a rare moment, I sat down on the couch. My eye was drawn to the bookshelf, and I pulled out The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh.

I haven’t looked at this book in a while. It’s probably been five years since I last read it.

I was astonished to see that the first chapter begins with a story about a father.

Here is the story…

I [Thich Nhat Hanh] asked Allen, “Do you find family life easy?” Allen didn’t answer directly. He said that during the past few weeks, since the birth of Ana, he had been unable to sleep any length of time. …

“Is family life easier than being a bachelor?” I asked. Allen didn’t answer directly. But I understood. I asked another question, “A lot of people say that if you have a family you’re less lonely and have more security. Is that true?” Allen nodded his head and mumbled something softly. But I understood.

Then Allen said, “I’ve discovered a way to have a lot more time. In the past, I used to look at my time as if it were divided into several parts. One part I reserved for Joey [his older son], another part was for Sue [his wife], another part to help with Ana, another part for household work. The time left over I considered my own. I could read, write, do research, go for walks.

“But now I try not to divide time into parts anymore. I consider my time with Joey and Sue as my own time. When I help Joey with his homework, I try to find ways of seeing his time as my own time. I go through his lesson with him, sharing his presence and finding ways to be interested in what we do during that time. The time for him becomes my own time. The same with Sue. The remarkable thing is that now I have unlimited time for myself!”

Allen smiled as he spoke. I was surprised. I knew that Allen hadn’t learned this from reading any books. This was something he had discovered for himself in his own daily life.

I probably didn’t notice the story five years ago because I was still thinking of time as divisible, as mine or his or theirs…

I probably didn’t notice the story because back then I was happy to “give my time” to tiny, baby Orlando.

And that worked, at least for a while. I had plenty to give. But add another kid, a job, a never-ending sinus infection, and pretty soon, there wasn't much more to divvy up. Some time last year I had the same realization as the father in the story: I saw that my insistence on division was contributing to my angst.

So now I'm learning about giving up giving and letting being be.

Just being, together, in time.