A Pocket Watch

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I recently acquired a pocket watch.  It’s an old-fashioned mechanical watch, which means it has to be wound every day.  In the center of the face, you can see the gears moving.  The tick-tick-tick is rapid and soft, like the heartbeat of a bird.

It’s been years since I owned a timepiece that didn’t require a battery.  My home is full of glowing digital clocks.  I’m sure yours is, too.  In the computer age, we’re accustomed to instant information and constant updates, but we’ve sacrificed something beautiful for that knowledge.

We always know what time it is, but we no longer know how to tell time.

I find myself opening my new pocket watch just to see the second hand tick around the mother of pearl face.  The minute hand moves along slowly, in no rush.  It knows it can’t outrun the second hand, nor can the hour hand overtake it.  Everything moves along at an even pace, the gears moving in turn.

I’d forgotten how long a minute can be.

We rush around, especially at this time of year, glancing at our phones or our digital dashboards to see how much time we have to get to the next place or the next thing.  There isn’t much we can do about it.  We all have deadlines and promises to keep, but I can’t help but wonder if much of what we call writer’s block is really just writer’s rush.

I’ll be keeping my pocket watch with me when I sit down to write.  Before I open my laptop or my notebook, I’ll open the watch and do what the name suggests–I’ll watch.  I’ll watch the second hand make its way around the face.  I’ll watch a minute pass.  I’ll listen to the tick-tick-tick.  I’ll let my digital mind slow down.

I’ll make time to write.