Tranquility in Order

A couple of weeks ago, while watching a Formula 1 race, I was reminded of the three conceptions of time the ancient Greeks described: Chronos, Kairos, and Aion. Chronos is measurable time: the kind we track with calendars and clocks. It is the time of deadlines, schedules, days, hours, and minutes. Kairos is different. It is the opportune moment, the right time for something to happen. It is qualitative rather than quantitative. It cannot always be scheduled, but it can be recognized. And then there is Aion, often understood as eternal time. Something that extends beyond our daily schedules and points toward legacy, meaning, and what we leave behind. Of these three, the one that has been on my mind lately is Kairos. I generally manage Chronos fairly well. I like being on time, keeping commitments, and meeting deadlines, many of which I impose on myself. Chronological time has served me well over the years, and I appreciate the order it brings to my life. But Kairos fascinates me. There...

I have seven scars. The very first one was caused by a vaccine that didn’t react well on my shoulder when I was a newborn. For many years, that scar was a source of embarrassment. People would point at it and ask what had happened. I knew it wasn’t my fault, yet it felt so visible, so difficult to hide, that I avoided sleeveless tops and dresses for a long time. My second set of scars is more hidden. Unless you are part of my family, you probably don’t know about them. I had surgery on both of my thumbs when I was about one year old because I couldn’t fully bend them. These marks are quiet reminders of something overcome long before I could even remember it. The third and fourth scars came from bicycles and skates. My poor mother endured a lot because of me. She would clean my wounds while insisting I stay still, doing her best not to hurt me. There were countless scraped knees and forearms. I loved speed. I loved pushing my limits. And, of course, falling was part of that story. The f...