It’s Time
It’s time. Read or listen to this one—and take your time.
Read or listen… wherever you’re sitting in the room. Take all the time you need.
Time is interesting. I have a complicated relationship with time.
I hate it… and I love it. Sometimes there isn’t enough. Sometimes it’s too much.
It really bothers me when people don’t respect my time. I remind them that this isn’t volunteer work—and that my time matters too.
Some apologize and explain what got in the way while still taking responsibility. I delight in their Core Self when they do.
But there’s a part of me that wants to be their hero—remembering now that I don’t need to save the world. That’s something I used to do a long time ago.
Sometimes, time knocks on my door… and says, “Get moving.” As you get older, you better not procrastinate and know where you’re going. Otherwise, you might get lost and have an accident. Just be careful to knock first.
Yeah, don’t get me started on accidents. Some people can’t seem to wait their turn when driving. They think they own the road. I’ve been accused of that too—hogging the road.
But with them, it’s like they're a proctologist doing their job—a real pain in the ass, especially when you don’t want a close examination. Just reminds me of my vulnerability and being exposed—as I pull up my big boy pants and let them pass.
On occasion, I just want to be alone. Finally, my own time. Then I spend it thinking about all the things on my “to do list” that I didn’t have time for before.
Damn, I just can’t run away from time. The body keeps the score no matter how much I run.
Eight marathons later is a lifetime. Can’t just run through the pain anymore. The pain slows me down so I appreciate time.
I write now… hopefully helping more than myself. I think about the little things that people don't take the time to notice—or their devices make it harder to see… or hear.
Something is missing. AI saves us time, but we forget how to talk to one another—and how communication is a two-way street. The questions and feedback make us think… and feel—a little different with a real person.
What about you… are we different or the same? Time will tell.
How can you say that? That's just me saying I can’t control time, and if I try, it will control me.
Like I said, I have a complicated relationship with time. I think we all do.
The world is so noisy right now. It’s time to be quiet and slow things down.
Wow, that’s cool. Time is shrinking.
No… it just disappeared. It doesn’t matter what time it is.
Time to go to sleep. I don’t need to do everything today. I’m turning off the lights, so the light within can rest side by side with the darkness—inside and out.
Imagine that.
I think I hear a voice... Where’s Papa? In the light of invisibility—still here… but taking his time.
Like I tell my clients all the time… the slower we go, the faster we’ll get there.
That’s a relief. Time together again—flowing as one.
Somewhere in time… it’s time to come home.
Dedication: To all those who shine the light on time—your own and others—bringing us closer together through time.
Gratitude: With appreciation for those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine in return.
Confidentiality note: This piece was inspired by someone close to my heart, but is a composite of many people I know—inside and outside of therapy. Any resemblance to your own life or our shared experience is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? You’re welcome to reach me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close… or long to be closer to.
About me: Besides being a writer, Marc Cecil is a doctoral-level licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. An experienced psychotherapist, supervisor, consultant, and teacher, Marc uses an integrated experiential model called Core Self Integration Therapy (CSIT)—grounded in our capacity for adaptive change—to help people heal from complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma. Some refer to it as Elephant Work.
Dr. Cecil lives in Vermont near the shores of Lake Bomoseen, where his heartfelt stories and images of connection arise from the light of invisibility—bringing life to therapy and therapy to life.