What I find surprising in Bellingham is the number of people I know that do not hold regular nine-to-five jobs. I can only think of a few, but mostly people are in business for themselves (and we all know the amount of free time that that offers) , so frequently one needs to question what day it is. And considering that time and punctuality seems to not be of the essence, time is a rather nebulous concept in this town.
But the Grateful Dead Hour just finished on KUGS on a cloudy morning with some sun peeking through, so as I sit here sipping my wonderful coffee, I figure that it must be Saturday. I think when time passes in segments of weeks (like I lived in past lives), it seems to be much more compartmentalized and move by so much more quickly. Conversely, living each day on an ever-changing schedule forces one to live in the moment, verus my office days of being on auto-pilot and following the same regimen week after week after week.
People have always told me that as one gets older, time moves by more quickly. I dunno. Living in Bellingham, time has assumed an expanded dimension and seems to crawl by. Maybe I am just more cognizant of time and its preciousness. When I was younger, I used to look ahead for the next big thing and literally wished my life away; by living in the present, I appreciate what I have and my current fulfilled needs, versus my wants, which always will perpetually loom ahead of me. The Now is good. And that's alright by me.
Time to get ready for a noon meeting.