What’s the Rush? Chronos and Kairos

A few days ago, I found myself alone on an island, Sears Island, the largest accessible uninhabited island on the coast of Maine.

A long road stretched right down the middle of the island. Grass and wildflowers grew up through the cracks of the old road.

As it is on an island, the path eventually comes to the water’s edge.

I climbed over the sun-bleached logs on the shoreline, through a tangle of creeping bellflowers, and chased my favorite hat along the water, caught up in the wind. 

Very often, I need to get lost, to not know where I am to remember where I am. I need to break my contract with time, step away from one reality into another, and re-enter childlike explorative play spaces. I need to regularly put away my to-lists and ideas so that I may sit with whatever is in front of me.

On this day I sat with an opened flower being tapped by raindrops until I was truly lost, until a bobbing and wet Rose of Sharon had my full attention. A story unfolded in my imagination as I paid close attention to the flower…

I imagined that I bent the Rose of Sharon towards me. I imagined that it grew so large that I could slip my hand down through the center of it and feel around inside of its stem. My imagination found a tiny envelope there.

I retrieved the envelope and struggled to get it open with my giant hands, but when I opened it, I found a note that read: “I am with you all. Love, Kairos.”

Kairos and Chronos, the Gods of Time.

Chronos measures time with clocks and calendars, decades and limits. I imagine Chronos sitting on a large marble slab saying things like “Time is money.” and “Don’t waste time.” and “Time is running out.” Chronos applies pressure with his waving pointer finger.

Sometimes Chronos’ wisdom puts a little fire under my ass. Sometimes it puts unnecessary pressure on things.

Kairos, on the other hand, is slippery with his directions. Kairos won’t comply with measurements. Kairos runs with a deer and says things like, “Come with me.” and “Here’s a secret door.” and “Imagination thrives here.” Kairos, in my experience, delivers me to ‘aha moments.’ Kairos expands me. 

I imagine that Kairos reigns where the Great Mother and her creatures and her cycles inhale, exhale, live, die, and transform. Kairos is childlike with her.

Slipping through Chronos’ backdoor, out into the fields with Kairos, is vital to my work in my corner of this world.

I must remember that there are many realities and realms. I must not cling to Chronos’ legs, hanging onto certainty, watching the sand running out in the hourglass. I must escape with Kairos, and go play so that my work ideas and tasks have fields to dream in. Chronos will always be there when I get back.

I think about how death is moved, held, and cajoled by Chronos and Kairos. I think about when it is my turn to stand at death’s door, will I be fighting for more time, begging and pleading for more time? I wonder what time I’d be fighting for then. I wonder if I’ll be ready to let go of time. I wonder if I’ll be sorry for wasting time, or if I will be resolved that my time was all well spent and played with. I wonder if I’ll be in a soft swell of gratitude for all the wonder I found playing in Kairos’ time. I bet I will.

I’ll remember the flowers and rain for sure. But will I get to my death and plead for a few more days to finish the projects I wanted to be known for, or will I be requesting that the Great Death hold away for a few more days so that I could rest and let go in the nectar of sunshine, on Kairos’ watch?

I wonder sometimes if we cling to Chronos’ legs because that way of keeping time does have some certainty to it. Whereas Kairos’ time mingles with big ‘U’ Uncertainties. I wonder what time is to us after we die. If our consciousness continues, that is. I won’t know until I’m there.

In the meantime, I’ll make sure to stop to watch the raindrops on the Rose of Sharon.

Time may be ‘running out’ but it also may be flooding in.

It just depends on whose eyes are making that call.

Chronos? Or Kairos?