Have you ever noticed how heavy time is? How much it weighs? Some days I feel the weight of it pulling on my shoulders like an overstuffed purse strap. And it only gets heavier with time. I guess that’s what you call baggage. You can never unload it either. You can never give any of it back. There are no returns or refunds from that store. Buy one minute, get one minute, that’s the deal. Simple and straightforward yet there’s never been anything more complicated.
I guess the real question is, how do you fill your minutes so the weight you carry is of your own choosing? So that you can pick the lighter things and rummage amongst the stores of time for the things that are light yet truly filling? I guess you can’t always choose. I’m sure there are moments you’d choose to get rid of if you could. But what seconds made those moments and how did they piece together? Were they woven with gold or with the threads of regret?
There’s only one way the weight of time on my shoulders lightens, if only for one brief moment that I can add to my bag. Laughter. Deep, belly laughter.
Laughter is the only way I’ve found to drop stuff off – to leave the annoying minute-kids that fill your bags at daycare for a little while so you can have another moment to just not be. Or rather, to just not be thinking. When I laugh I float away, I float in, the belly of my spirit rumbles in a raging chorus that spills up through my chest and out my mouth in an exultation that would put Santa’s jelly belly to shame.
The weight settles back quickly, but my spirit is boosted to better carry the load and I know I can continue for a few more miles. The dull trudging on of it all is broken up and I can strut my peacock feathers and dry out in the sun for a pause. The weight is not lessened, but it’s somehow lightened. And it’s amazing how much taller my shoulders stand when they’re not so weighed down.