Written by Catherine Crow, Cord-Cutting Coach
Catherine Crow is an intuitive, a healer, and a creative. If only there were a word for that. Oh, right, there is. Let me try that again.
I used to hate getting my nails done. Spending money to sit completely still while someone paints the color I just had to commit to staring at for two weeks onto my fingers? Pass. I would dread the days preceding social events for which I read “fresh manicure required for entry” in invisible ink on the invitations. That is until I met Tracy. A gifted manicurist who quickly became a dear friend. Now, I can think of more reasons to get my nails than I have not to do. But this isn’t a story about fingernails. It’s about time travel.
A few months ago, I had the privilege of sitting in Tracy’s chair. Once she finished perfectly manicuring my two hands, she sat back in her chair and stared at me ever so sweetly. I stared back without breaking eye contact or a smile. Time stood still. And I’m glad it did because if given the choice. I might’ve stayed in that moment forever.
She breaks the silence, and the clock of life resumes, reminding me how its perfectly manicured hands move even faster than mine do. “I’m going to guess your age, 24,”. I laugh, both surprised and amused. “24?! I’m 29!”. She says she doesn’t believe me. I’m mainly laughing to myself because there I was in what felt like the most “mature” outfit I owned after very intentionally getting a French manicure because “I’m a grown woman, and it’s about time I started acting like one!” something I was finding myself saying a little too often back then. I respond, almost compulsively, with a small joke to deflect what I believe was intended to be a compliment, “Well, I eat a lot of vegetables!” knowing very well that whatever vitality she’s seeing has nothing to do with my diet.
I leave the salon immersed in thought because I’d been getting comments like this often, and whenever I see a pattern. I analyze it. By this point, the sweetness and amusement have been replaced with frustration and bewilderment. Frustrated because my hair, clothing, and nail polish choices weren’t translating to “grown woman.” More proof that I don’t have any control over how I’m perceived. Confused because I felt like I had aged ten years over the past 6 months. I was running on very little sleep, and if I were able to quantify the amount of stress I was living with, I’d say it was at least twice as much as what I consider homeostasis because I was buying double the amount of stress relief Yogi Tea.
“24?” I think as I’m catapulted back into my 24-year-old body in a New York City high rise, sitting across from a nurse reviewing the intake paperwork for my annual physical. “You’re 24? You look much older than 24.” I also responded with a joke there, “Well, I guess this city has started to age me then.” I was tired and stressed then, too, but a different kind of tired and stressed. Going to the doctor for a checkup felt like a waste of time. I had papers to write and multiple jobs to work. I didn’t care about looking older back then, and I’ve never worried much about the physical signs of aging. But I’ve always been concerned about time. The way it moves, where it goes, the time I’ve lost, and how the sands of it are constantly slipping right through our fingers no matter how tight of a death grip we have on them.
This concern has been with me since childhood. My answer to the very fun question, “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” was consistently “Time travel,” and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about rewinding it, stopping it, and speeding it up. I would sit in my classes and daydream about what I would do with that power. During my younger years, those daydreams looked like stopping time so I could head to the playground for some alone time on the swings or walk to the grocery store to get a snack. And as a teenager well, all my little boyfriends joined me on my time-traveling escapades, if you know what I mean.
I’ve wished for that power in adulthood too. Speeding up time would be handy when I’m waiting for something I desperately want but know I’m not ready for. Being able to stop time would mean worrying less about running out of it. And rewinding it, of course, would allow me to travel back in time. Not necessarily to go back and change things, but to go back and feel or remember them. Just be in periods I was never really “there” for, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually, because I was too in my head, more concerned about what was next, and moving at the speed of light, trying to get there faster. I’m one of those “go-go-go” types. This part of me strains my relationship with time because time tends to see our pace and match it. So, when I’m moving too quickly, so is time. I’ve lost far more than just time because of this.
Quality time has always been my last love language. I wonder if other “go-go-go” types share this with me. Alone time is something I cherish, and I am deeply devoted to my work because there is quite a lot of change I want to see in this world, and I see very clearly how I can help facilitate it. This devotion can become unhealthy and result in neglecting my needs and the needs of those I care about because it often feels like there is just too much to do and never enough time to do it. In this headspace, it feels almost as if giving people my time and presence costs me something. So, if I’m not careful, I can become resentful or feel burdened by their desire to spend more time with me. When, of course, people only want to be around me so they can love and be loved by me, which is very beautiful.
Someone told me I was “selfish with my time” once. I was offended, so I used my vocation to build a wall that prevented any more hurt from coming close to my emotional body, “What do you mean selfish? I give people my time for a living and do good, meaningful work. What could be selfish about that?” Truth is, I wasn’t being selfish. I was being misunderstood. He wasn’t entirely wrong, though, because sometimes the thing to do is to just be with your people. Especially if you’re like me and have a history of drowning yourself in work to cope with your fear of emotional intimacy or using it as an excuse to avoid emotional intimacy altogether. Yes, I’m driven by change, and I love what I do, but my abandonment wound is far deeper than my devotion to my work could ever be.
After examining my relationship with time and presence and how it relates to my emotional unavailability, I decided to make some changes and find balance. So, I set out to buy a timepiece. “I’ve never heard anyone call a watch a timepiece before,” said my sister. Well, sister, maybe you should consider spending your time with more dignified people (ha ha ha, only kidding). To her benefit and my disappointment, I bought a watch. A timepiece is something I’ll be saving up for. There were good reasons behind this purchase. I wanted to start being on time instead of way too early or a little late too late. I like being aware of the time and prefer to check my phone as little as possible. Something visible to serve as a reminder of every second’s preciousness. And lastly, to force me to slow down. Reading it is very unfamiliar to me, so whenever I want to check the time, I have to stand still, take a breath, and count the dots and dashes to decode the message the silly little wrist gadget is trying to relay to me.
The watch has helped me slow down, and being present is a practice. Making it a habit is a process, but it has already taught me more than I learned in the two years I spent at NYU (which is one fine institution). I’ve learned that when I engage in this practice, time doesn’t just slow down, but I get exactly what I need to push through my to-do list or to finish a project, whether that be joy, connection, love, a new piece of information, a lesson, help. Anything. So, when I “give” someone my presence, I get so much more in return. Even when I’m sure there is nothing or nobody else I need. I’ve also figured out how to define presence in a way that I understand on a soul level, a way that further motivates me to change. To me, being present with others means looking for the *God in people and loving them for it. The most important thing I’ve learned so far is when I move through the world in this way, by looking for the God all around me, the world infallibly responds by looking for and finding the God in me, too, even on my worst days.
That’s what happened with my dear Tracy and why that exchange was so sweet to me. I spent that hour in her chair, asking about her life and learning about her craft, but what I was doing was recognizing the God in her and loving the heck out of her for it. And by the time the appointment ended, she saw the God in me, too. And the comment about my age and that sweet smile on her face were her ways of telling me. It didn’t matter what I was wearing, that I was far too tired to speak articulately, or that my hair was doing that flippy thing that I just hate. All that mattered was that I was there with her, giving her my presence.
So what did I get in return for giving her my presence? Other than a flawless manicure? The very thing I’ve spent most of my life wishing for. Time control. My ability to be present in that nail salon enabled me to pause time long enough to create and retain a magnificent memory. One so vivid that I can time travel with Tracy by returning to it in my mind whenever and wherever I please. And when I do, I feel the same sweetness and joy and love she gave me that day.
What a beautiful gift from Tracy. What a beautiful gift from the Universe.
*I use the terms “God” and “the Universe” interchangeably. To me, the two are synonymous. I do not identify with any religion. If you are a survivor of spiritual abuse of any kind, please know that I see you, I love you, and that you have my deepest sympathy and sincere empathy.
Read more from Catherine Crow
Catherine Crow, Cord-Cutting Coach
Catherine Crow is an intuitive, a healer, and a creative. If only there were a word for that. Oh, right, there is. Let me try that again. Catherine Crow is a Witch, a witch specializing in coaching people through transformation and cutting any cords preventing them from stepping into the power of their most authentic selves.
