Reclaiming the Hours

We can't stop time from passing,

but we can decide how it passes through us.

There are days when the hours slip away like sawdust,

evidence of effort, but not always of progress.

We move from task to task,

meeting to meeting,

inbox to inbox,

and call it work.

But deep down, we know the difference between motion and meaning.

The drift doesn't happen all at once.

It starts when we stop checking in with ourselves.

When "just for now" becomes "how it is."

When the compass of our work starts to spin,

And we mistake activity for direction.

Time, in its quiet way, keeps passing through us whether we notice or not.

And yet, that's where the quiet rebellion begins:

Noticing.

To reclaim the hours isn't to control them,

or stretch them,

or fill them more efficiently.

It's to inhabit them.

To pause long enough to remember what kind of life this work was supposed to build.

To lift your head from the plans, the schedules, the endless lists, and ask:

Does this still serve the reason I began?

Some days, the answer will be no, and that's fine.

Reclaiming the hours isn't about guilt.

It's about returning.

Coming back to presence, to craft, to care.

Because time is not something we own.

It's something we travel through one decision,

one conversation,

one breath at a time.

Field Note:

Every hour is a doorway. Most we pass through without looking. Some we can still choose to open with intention.