Time is not to be wished away

January gray is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps–but, O ye Hours!
Follow with May’s fairest flowers.

Percy Bysshe Shelley – Dirge for the Year (1824)

It’s easy to find yourself wishing time away, especially in the depths of winter. Longing for summer or even spring is natural. However, such thinking accelerates life and with the speed we can easily miss the beauties of winter, from the magical geometry of a snow flake to the warmth of family and home.

The same applies on the macro level as we hurry ourselves to the next job, the next acquisition, the next trip, the next thing for which we are striving. It’s good to savour our time more, slow down, live life more consciously. After all, we only have 40,000 weeks.

This is the book I’ve bought most copies of in my life (to give to people I care about)