I know the feeling, and yet sometimes I wonder why we express such surprise about it. Why do we lament and think it's a bad thing? Is it? Would we prefer our days to crawl by at turtle pace? Would that be more acceptable?
Perhaps we focus on it flying by because something on the inside reminds us that our days are indeed numbered and we'd like to slow that journey a little. Perhaps we fret that our days are spilled out on things that matter not in the end. Perhaps we hope for the time we'll be better organized and ready to meet each day with the confidence we're finally doing it right.
In my own search for living life more beautifully, I've been thinking I'd like to hold my days more lightly and to quit fretting about how fast they seem to be passing. If they are, indeed, flying by at warp speed, it seems a pity to waste even a moment of it being anxious in any way, wouldn't you think?
Originally posted on It's A Beautiful Life