The Time Is Now
What is time, really? At its core, it’s a human construct—a label for measurement. Our earliest ancestors lived by the rhythms of light and dark, guided only by the celestial dance above. Day meant presence and doing, night meant rest. It was simple. It was life as it unfolded.
But eventually, someone decided to go further—to measure more precisely. Thus, the clock was born. We began to divide life into hours, minutes, seconds. We started asking when, how long, what’s next—and in doing so, we began the chase. Chasing time, managing time, running out of time.
Today, I probably check the time a hundred times a day—glancing at my watch, my phone, or just mentally assessing where I “should” be. My day is carved into blocks of scheduled events, each bound by the ticking of the clock.
I recall Eckhart Tolle once saying, “If you asked a bird what time it is, it wouldn’t understand the question. It would just say, ‘The time is now.’” Animals live like this—dogs, cats, a squirrel darting up a tree—they have no use for clocks. Their wisdom is primal: the now is everything. How beautiful is that?
And yet, even when I’m on time or early, I find myself speeding. Rushing. And I have to ask: What’s the hurry? Why are we racing toward the next moment as if the one we’re in isn’t enough?
Here’s the truth: we don’t own time. We only have now.
Now is where God lives. Now is where presence begins. It’s in your breath, in your stillness, in the quiet connection of a conversation. Now is the only thing your soul truly recognizes.
The mind creates time. The soul is timeless—like God. In divinity, there is no past or future. There is only the eternal now.
As Jesus said in Matthew 6:34,
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
So today, try this: stop checking your watch. Put down your phone. Let the clock be, and just be. This moment—this sacred, fleeting now—will never come again. And to God, it is everything.
