three

when i was a kid, my step-mother taught high school math. she often tested demonstrations at home and there's one that i've never forgotten. she had a hollow cone, made of paper and a similarly sized cylinder, also hollow. she used a bag of rice and asked how many cones of rice it would take to fill the cylinder. first responses were nearly always 'two'. and then she'd start filling the cone and pouring the rice into the cylinder.

but...it took three.

i don't think i ever used that to calculate conical volume - i mean, how often are you asked to do that? - but it's a metaphor i always fall back on in relation to time. no matter how much i think i can fit in to my available time, there's always room for more. this runs contrary to the commonly held belief 'too much to do, never enough time to do it.' and i deliberately hold a contrary opinion to that stance.

i contend, instead, that our time is fluid and accommodating and there's always plenty of it to do all the things i want to do. every day passes in the same amount of time as the one before, with all the hours and the minutes there to be filled. i think of those minutes as spaces in my day. each one is wonderfully available to me and so i put all the things i love into them and hope there are a few left for sleep at the end of the day. (and there always are.)

and now i'm taking this lesson to the rest of my life. i am creating spaces to be filled. space in my closet for new clothes. space in my work bag for new work. space in my bank account for new income. space in my workout regimen for new activities. space in my family for more. space in my mind for new creativity.

the voice in field of dreams had it right, 'If you build it, he will come.'

and the spaces i've built will be filled, not just with the two i expect and hope for, but with three. above and beyond my wildest dreams.

after all, my heart and the cylinder of rice have proven this to me.

d: allowing the fill.
b: space is available.
g: an extra cone.