Time flies when...

It's now been just over 10 weeks since I returned from Costa Rica, approximately the same amount of time I spent living and learning abroad. Because I began working immediately upon my return, I wasn't granted much time to transition, I was simply thrust back into the rat race. It was December, the holidays were approaching and I was broke. I worked 6 days a week, moving my father's business to a new, more customer friendly location while simultaneously operating the new store so that I could afford gifts and life. This was in the midst of coaching a youth basketball team, battling jet lag and cold weather, and the ever-present temptation of catching up with friends.  Add on a legal battle because my father rented a location next door to one of his biggest competitiors in a space not zoned for retail on top of one of the snowiest winters on record and you have the time period that is my winter of 2010-2011. This is what I came home for?

The funny thing is, the past 3 months have gone by faster than any other period in my life except maybe my 4 years in college. I'm reminded me of the old cliche, "time flies when your'e having fun". Im thinking maybe I should ammend that. I wouldn't call the last 3 months "fun" by any means, but it sure is Hell went by fast. The 10 weeks I spent in Costa Rica were fun, and that time dragged on like a trip to the dentist. Ticos, along with people from SoCal, Florida, the Caribbean, and those hailing from other places considered paradise seem to adopt a different mentality than those from the northeast. In Costa Rica they called it "Tico Time", and the only rule is that time doesn't dictate life. Rather, life dictates time. Ticos see time as an ever-moving constant created by man to make us more productive. This idea was born around the same time as capitalism and the phrases "if it don't make dollars it don't make sense" and "time means money". It seems to me that when you are enjoying your time you don't think about how fast it is passing because you don't even consider looking at a watch. On the other hand, when you're rushing to an appointment or sitting in traffic, you're fully aware of how much time you have or have lost. It actually has nothing to do with fun. In the movie "Deep Blue Sea", poet LL Cool J has an ingenious take on time and the theory of relativity. LL says, "Grab hold of a hot pan, second can seem like an hour. Put your hands on a hot woman, an hour can seem like a second. It's all relative".

Back to the original issue; when does time fly? As humans we don't give ourselves enough credit. We are highly-evolved, intelligent beings, at least on paper. We actually have the ability to speed up and slow down time based on how effectively mindful we are of it. Unfortunately, success is measured by productivity, so in striving for material triumph one needs to always be conscious of time. Ticos are constantly  less mindful of it, and in turn, don't speed it up or slow it down, simply letting it be. It was that ignorance that allowed me to let time slowly pass me by. Now I'm living the American Dream, or perhaps just the infant stages of it? In the grand scheme, 3 months is such a small sample size, certainly not enough to determine the future, but enough to know I'm onto something. The reason for my optimism is the way time has passed since being home. Time flies when you're using it productively....

The Perfect Personal Day

Well it's finally hit, my yearly bout with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). For those of you who never heard of it, it's a mood disorder that affects humans during the cold, daunting months of winter. No one is sure why it affects only certain people, but my mother theorizes that it's genetic. She claims its inflicted her brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, and even her late mother. It seems to have passed its way down to me, because for a few weeks out of every year I feel like doing absolutely nothing; not working, not playing, not reading, not exercising, not talking, not writing. Everything seems to be a struggle, and my energy wanes to a weak gurgle. Im not sure what initiates this, every year something different sets me off. Maybe it's the presence of death, a lack of vitamin D, student debt, living at home, Egypt, or even the absence of color (actually there seems plenty to be depressed about). Regardless, there is very little that can be done other than waiting it out until green begins to uncover.

I tried one remedy last week; "the personal day" aka "the mental health day". As a kid I would sleep in, watch daytime television, and find ways to amuse myself while everyone else was at school. Nowadays that therapy only puts me into further despair. Activity is what cures me now. So last week, I decided to take a day off, drive to the White Mountains, and spend the day carving down a slope at high speeds. The timing couldn't have been better for a trip to Cannon; it was half price Thursday providing us with a $33 lift ticket, a new storm had just given us over a foot of fresh powder, and because it was a Thursday there were no lift lines. We left Boston before dawn, happy to see the sun pushing the clouds out of the way and giving us a clear path to the north. Just over 2 hours later we were putting on our boots and strapping into our bindings. It was still snowing in Franconia Notch where storms seem to get stuck in the confining barriers of the close knit range. We were up and down all morning, creating new paths in the virgin powder and doing our best to emulate the Winter X Games. We took a break for lunch and were more than pleased to hear the announcement that the clouds were departing and the summit lift would be opening. Everyone there was in great spirits, happy to take pictures of strangers, and enjoying the fresh air on a work day. We spent the afternoon making the long runs from summit to base without hesitation. Eventually the clouds gave way to blue skies and phenomenal views of the snowcapped mountains that surrounded us. Cruising from the summit, you moved down toward the clouds below creating a dreamlike scene unknown in the city. Not once did we mention work or anything negative. We were living in the present and enjoying the therapeutic retreat from the concrete jungle we call home.

So often I forget to appreciate the gifts that the winter provides us. Life in the city during this time of the year consists of complaints about shoveling, stepping in slushy puddles, black snow, waiting in lines at bars, and the flu. There is so much more that we miss because of this omnipresent negativity. This is why employers give us these days, so that we can aleviate the stress caused by the season. It just seems to me that we don't use them correctly. These kinds of activities allow us to focus on the present and help to shift our anxieties from the past and future to the immediate. I wasn't concerned about loans, relationships, or illness. Instead, I was focused on speeding down a mountain as fast as possible without killing myself. For me that's what life is all about.