I believe that there is plenty of time.
That's kind of a lie because I have huge scarcity issues around time, often rushing around worrying that I'm going to run out of it - so this is one of my mantras. It's what I tell myself when I catch myself in the midst of the rushing, "There is plenty of time. "
Because there IS plenty of time. I just don't always remember to remember it.
Sometimes I have so many plans and ideas racing around in my head angling to get out RIGHT NOW that I become like a tidal wave, gathering momentum and sweeping myself up, barreling toward the shore. The thing is - and it's not a secret - when that wave hits the sand, it recedes. And then the ocean builds momentum again, moving toward the shore, crashing (ok, that's a flaw in this metaphor) into the sand and receding. Over and over and over.
what will happen if this paper doesn't get cut today? If those brushes don't get washed and I don't make it to the grocery store and the laundry sits in a pile and my book is unread - today? tomorrow is another day. (my grandmother would - if she were alive and writing all of this in a letter because goodness knows she wouldn't use Instagram, insert a note here in her own shorthand: "p.g." which means please God. I'll tell you more about that another time.) there is plenty of time.