Away We Go: Time Zones

I have a meeting with someone on the West Coast. She is taking her last bites of breakfast as we begin. I’m on the other edge of the continent, close enough to hear the other ocean, and it's on towards noon.

If I’m following the clock in the place my body resides, I should feel a bit accomplished. I should be able to look back on the last six or so hours and believe I got enough done to earn my keep. (To who? For what?) If I was on the other side of the country, I would still have four of those hours in front of me to accomplish whatever it is I believe I should.

Working while traveling means being in a different time zone than those I’m emailing, calling or meeting. When I’m trying to figure out which method of communication is appropriate in their time, I wonder what it’s like to be there. If it was nine instead of noon, how different would I approach the upcoming minutes? How rigid are my expectations about what I've done and what I'm doing? How, exactly, should I feel?

If the day was young and full of prospects, I might have hope that I can finish the list. If the day was a bit more aged, I could be relieved it’s over. Which is problematic because I am lucky to have had the day and the reasonable belief there will be another.

There’s someone across the globe who is opening their eyes to the day as I’m closing my book. Maybe there’s someone out there taking their last breath as I lean over my knees winded from a set of sprints. Maybe there’s someone who feels exactly the same way I do even though it’s 3 am for them. To slide myself into the perspective of someone in a different time is a momentary relief from my rigid set of self-imposed expectations.

Look at this, says my brain, you could feel another way entirely. The only difference is numbers on a watch face. If the arrows are in a different place, then boom. You are “allowed” to feel a totally different way.

My inner voice, wise goddess that she is, objects. You can feel any way you want, any time you want! Yep, I reply. That would be great. I need to work on that. Maybe if I pretend the day is younger and I’ve got everything spread out in front of me. Or maybe if I just let go of time’s influence on how I judge myself it wouldn’t matter so much.

I’ll get back to you about that this afternoon. Wherever time that may be for you.

Inspired by events in Lake Chicot, Arkansas.