There are times when all the hands of the clock seem to be second hands. Those thin, skinny fingers of time that never stop to rest, that never slow down to take a drink of life.

More than not, they are just like most of us.

They are exactly like the rabbit that took Alice into Wonderland, always behind and not sure why?

I remember a sign in a Little Five Points bookstore years ago in Atlanta that simply stated "This is your life and it is not a dress rehearsal!" At the time it seemed rather ludicrous but some years later it smacked of truth.

Maybe we do treat our lives like it is a dress rehearsal, just keep starting over till we get it right; but maybe there is no 'really right'.

There is only the second hand.

Have we let our goals and ambitions become our lives instead of the means to enjoy our lives? Have we substituted things for people, friends and family? Have we rewritten the script of our lives and made so many erasures that now there are little holes in the paper. Holes that
demonstrate quite simply that we do not have all the answers; heck, we do not even know all the questions.

The time from Halloween to January 1st is almost apocalyptic, almost consuming us with the desires, demands and declarations of others. People we don't even know and from time to time, don't even like. As the days are compressed and the nights are shortened, the roller coaster starts up the incline, clanking and creaking under the weight.

The Zephyr, The Cyclone, The Great American Scream Machine and scariest of all, The Family; all beckon to us to just get on, strap in and have a dose of holiday cheer. But, alas; all those rides only cause us to go faster, walk un-steadier and attempt to prove our bravery.

But we are not all brave, and that is okay.

We are not all geared up to enjoy this tragic commercialization of November and December, and that too, is okay.

What is not okay is letting someone take the measure of us by what we give or do not give during that time. What about the other ten months when we all did our very best, or least the best we could with what we had.

Why does that time just get lifted and up and swept away, like the etch-a-sketch.

Is it simply because we allow it to?

Is it because we have not learned to say thanks? How to leave ten minutes early to help a friend in need? How to take a short walk with just us and get reacquainted with our hearts and minds?
To sit with a book and read. To sit with a child or spouse and talk with them?

Is it because we haven't made a peanut butter and banana sandwich and offered to share it with a co-worker without worrying what they will think?

Why do we abdicate our lives and loves to so many other forces that do not care one iota about us?

Maybe we have been trained to. Maybe we have given in to the glossy magazines, the 42" big screens and subtle guidance from the 15 or so daily talk show hosts. Maybe we spend so much time going and doing, trying to reach immortality that we forget to put another quarter in the meter and the "expired" sign pops up in our lives.

And then whom do we have to blame?

If anything, this time of the year should be for slowing, a reminder of our frailty and at times just to hold up a mirror and say, "Whoooowe!"

This time seems to mandate a closeness that doesn't fit all of us well; a time of sharing the only toy we have, a smile that works occasionally and words that say, "I notice and see you," that I know you are alive.

We all have that moment, that one still moment when the carols and the sounds of the holiday season touch us. And that moment is for us. There is peace and serenity in that moment, a connection between the heart and mind that transcends all else and lets you remember that you are alive.

Remember that moment.

Share it with yourself always, because the gifts you give to you are the only ones you can share with others.