When you don’t have time to meditate, it’s time to meditate.
If you don’t have time, create some.
Churchill didn’t have time to write a short speech (so he had to write a long one). The weight watcher didn’t have time to cook a healthy dinner (so he got take out). It’s so annoying that the things we “need” to do we just don’t have time for.
If I didn’t have kids or a spouse or a full-time job or obligations or a part-time job or friends or family or plans or a to-do list or a calendar or … if I had nothing on my day’s agenda, I would map it out like this:
Then call it a day. My average day is somehow more: 1, 7, 3, 6 and takes longer than a 1-7 day.
Where did the time go?! (Hint: it’s right where you left it.)
On the days that start with meditation, the rest of the day somehow rolls into place. Meditation is something of a pot of boiling vegetable soup and priorities and work and dreams get rolled around as the heat is turned up and the good stuff rises to the top and gets attention—as it should. The junk falls to the bottom—as it should.
What often happens, mathematically, is the hour of meditation removes at least an hour of work.
So I can’t afford to not meditate as my day becomes less organized, takes longer, I get less done, and what I get done isn’t what I’d like (or need) to do. Maybe I should call it Meditation Math.
I’d even challenge not having time to meditate to not having time to not meditate.
Photo credit: Bradley Charbonneau with Lumix camera in macro setting looking up into sunroof of friend’s car after a morning storm.