My watch says it is March 1, but of course, it is not. My computer knows the truth--it is February 29, the extra day we get every four years.
I feel the same way about leap day as I feel about the extra hour we get in the Fall if we live in places where we change the clocks. I feel a mix of optimism and guilt.
Here's a whole extra day, not just an extra hour! And I shall likely do what I do on any other day: spend most of it at work.
But I'm happy to have a job; I'm happy that it's still mostly manageable. One of the joys of my job lately comes from my colleagues--we're working on an interesting writing project. I'm about to take on the idea of time in a writing chunk that I'm creating.
And now, along comes Leap Day, which shows us that our idea of time is an artificial construct in so many ways. If you want some background on why we handle the calendar the way we do, today's entry for The Writer's Almanac will give you that.
I wish I could say that I have something special lined up, something that will bring me closer to God or my true self. But I do not. I feel like this day sneaks up on me every four years, which is ridiculous, because it's not like this day is unexpected.
Ah, well. Maybe this early morning pondering will help me infuse this day with a bit of wonder and gratitude for the time that we have, a sense of intention for the time we have left.
all men cheat…
6 days ago