Time as objective reality has never made much sense to me. It's what happens that matters. How can minutes and years, devices of our own creation, mean the same thing to gnats and to cedars? Two hundred years is young for the trees whose tops this morning are hung with mist. It's an eyeblink of time for the river and nothing at all for the rocks...
If there is meaning in the past and in the imagined future, it is captured in the moment. When you have all the time in the world, you can spend it, not on going somewhere, but on being where you are. So I stretch out, close my eyes, and listen to the rain.
Any type of work can be meaningful. It is the spirit in which you do it that makes the difference.
Things just happen in the right way, at the right time. At least they do when you LET them, when you work WITH circumstances instead of saying, "This isn't supposed to be happening this way", and trying hard to make it happen some other way. If you're in tune with The Way Things Work, then they work the way they need to, no matter what you may think about it at the time. Later on, you can lookback and say, "Oh, now I understand. That had to happen so that THOSE could happen, and those had to happen in order for THIS to happen..." Then you realize that even if you'd tried to make it all turn out perfectly, you couldn't have done better, and if you'd REALLY tried, you would have made a mess of the whole thing.
