If you don’t think you have enough time to write, read, exercise, meditate, do things with your kids, make art, visit art, anything else in the world could be inserted here, you are not alone.

We rush around frantically, wondering how to fit it all in, madly spinning our mental wheels yet still feeling like we aren’t doing enough. If only there were more hours in a day, we lament.

And when we finally, and inevitably crash, exhausted and spend the whole day admiring Daryl Dixon’s, um, crossbow, on The Walking Dead instead of doing all the things we think we should be doing (see above partial list), then, consumed with guilt, the process starts again.

It’s like a relentless beat down and at the end of it nothing at all really gets accomplished.

But, wait: What about all the things you have accomplished? However did they get done?

There have been moments in your life where your impetus was clear and you found a way to fit it in despite the busyness of your schedule. Or rather, it almost felt as if time itself restructured to accomodate your situation. You know what I’m talking about—I know you do.

Maybe that situation was something that arose from the well of life’s uncertainties, like an unexpected house move, a sick relative that needed your care, a divorce or a second job. Something you felt you had no choice about. Maybe it was messy and stressful, but you did it. You got to the other side and you are ok.

And somehow, there was enough time.

You have also accomplished things just because you wanted to, because it was something that really, really mattered to you. There is the yoga class you managed to get to, the novel that you finished, the way you took the time to choose the right curtains, cooked roasted vegetable enchiladas with cashew cream, or placed river stones along your window to bring the outside in. Probably some of those things were messy and stressful, but you did them.

Somehow, there was enough time.

So I am not telling you anything new; this is just a reminder—and maybe a way to bring power and impetus back into the thing you wish you could get up and do right now.

I want to challenge you to make an unwavering commitment to the completion of this thing, or the energy to get back on track with a daily practice that you know in your bones makes you better, brighter, stronger and more alive.

I want to challenge you to take small, manageable, bite-sized pieces out of the project or practice every single day, like you are taking your medicine. And then, I want you to sit back, watch time bend and sway to accommodate your gorgeous, radical, take-no-prisoners commitment.

Will Hewitt committed to singing for just 15 minutes every day for a year and didn’t miss a day.

Impressive, right?

He says, “I really wondered whether I could fit it into my day, but here’s what happened: It was like my whole concept of time turned inside out, it was like instead of wedging something in, this practice became like a generational center for my day. It was like a fire, that the rest of the day gathered around.”

Yes. That. That is exactly what I’m talking about.

So listen closely, darlings; time is not anything like what we have been told.

It is not a linear thing with equal increments of seconds, hours, months and years. It is fluid, dynamic, maleable. It breathes and stretches and bends to expand and contract the moments, to hold the possibilities.

Time wrinkles to bring us together right here, right now, when our bodies aren’t face-to-face, but here we are, interacting, connecting—me and you.

So, what is the thing that you want, that you know will make you more you, but don’t feel like you have the time to get to? Are you willing to do this little experiment and see if you can expand the moments in your day to accommodate it?

Let’s take a deep breath together—right here and now—and commit to adding in the things that uplift and support us all.

Like elephant journal on Facebook.

Ed: Bryonie Wise