Since a very young age, my daily life has run to the movement of a clock. Time to wake up, time to go to bed, time to go to school, time to go to work, time to go to church, time to go home. Even time to watch my favorite TV shows.
In the old, old days, people had sundials and, before that, they had the sun itself along with the moon and the patterned stars that counted the time as Earth twirled in a trustworthy rhythm on its axis. I believe those may have been steadier, more peaceable days.
Honestly, clocks kind of tick me off. (Sorry for the pun.)
I lose count of how many times a day I check a clock. Am I on time? Am I running late? Where did the day go? I should know. I was there the whole time. My attention to the clock has cost me time by sucking away my focus from where I should have been looking.
Our dogs do very well without clocks, thank you. They carry timers in their stomachs. Brunch is to be served at 11 a.m. precisely, seven days a week. And we had better not be late because massive hubbub ensues if we miss it by even a couple of minutes.
Foot-stomping, loud yawns, strange bulldog vocalizations. And then – BARKING! My interpretation of the mess call goes like this: “Hey! Did y’all forget something? Food! Food! Food!”
Our dog’s internal clocks are never off. They never have to be wound nor have their batteries changed. They are organic, the way I would like for my clocks to be.
“Oh, is it time to eat? My stomach just said so.”
“How long until sunset? Long enough to play one more round of keep away.”
“How many minutes are left for nap time? Wait, what’s a minute?”
I understand. Clocks are human tools. I am a human. I will continue to use our tools. Still, it’s nice every once in a while to think, “What time is it?” and answer, “I don’t care.”
“And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years.” Genesis 1:14 KJV
Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
Bulldoggy 