I’ve never met a person who doesn’t wait for a perfect time to show up at their doorsteps. But we all know that doesn’t happen very often. I mean there could be — plenty of time, good times even bad times, some unlucky moments and some surprisingly lucky times… but to pick a perfect time amongst all these would be a little too difficult.
There had been instances in my life, where I had been waiting for that perfect time to pop up right in front of me, but it never showed up.
This cycle of waiting and wanting brought a new companion along — watching. So now it was me, waiting and wanting and watching… as others succeed in their plans of life. And then another new element was born — wonder. I kept wondering… did anyone wait for a perfect time like me or was it just me.
A closer look at my own life made me think. Can there be a perfect time ever?
And it was then, that I realized that time is anything but perfect. If you want to be a part of the time, you just have to go with it… without measuring its lengths as good or bad.
It was then that I realized that perfect time doesn’t exist, if you want to do something.
I realized that waiting for the perfect time is like never actually crossing the sea.
I realized that waiting for that perfect moment lead me nowhere, and I kept standing at the same place.
It’s then that I realized, that what had kept me at my doorsteps was not the wait for that perfect time but my own fear and hesitation of giving myself to the process.
It could be true that someone somewhere would have met that perfect time. But I can’t say that for myself, and I can’t keep hoping for it to show up at my doorsteps according to my desires. Perhaps in that case, I might just fly with time into the bounds of imperfection instead of waiting for that perfect time to arrive at my door.