With a title like “Taming Time,” I imagine myself with a chair and a whip. I’m lunging forward and back in a dance with a wild lion. An old turn-of-the-century circus fades in the background. Time takes on a tantalizing golden mane, but also visible are its four long canines, ready to rip.
What a dreadful image. Although I don’t know what’s worse…time itself, or me thinking I can tame it.
Readers who have followed me for any amount of time (ha – there’s that word again), know I have an ongoing troubled relationship with the ticking clock.
Then the world throws in daylight savings, and it’s enough to throw me into evil-superhero-villain-mode.
It could be that I’m just tired…and have been tired for the last decade. It must be an age thing, as I’ve grappled with this concept with more intensely these last ten years. I blame inspiration. I…
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