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The Precious Gift of Now: Why Time Is Our Most Sacred Currency

Time. We speak of it as if it's something we can save, spend, or waste. We say we don't have enough of it, yet we scroll endlessly through our phones. We rush through our days chasing tomorrow's promises while missing today's gifts. But what if I told you that the very moment you're reading these words is the only time that truly exists? What if the secret to a meaningful life isn't in managing time, but in honoring it?


In my journey from the football pitches of Wales to the spiritual awakening centers I now call home, I've learned that our relationship with time mirrors our relationship with ourselves. When my dad passed away on April 28th, 2008, at 8:20 am, time suddenly became crystalline. Every second before his death felt precious beyond measure, while every moment after felt like borrowed breath. It was then I truly understood that time isn't just ticking away—it's gifting us presence, if only we're brave enough to receive it.



The Illusion of "Later"

We live in a world obsessed with later. Later, when I have more money. Later, when the kids are older. Later, when I retire. Later, when things settle down. But here's the truth that took me years to understand: later is a beautiful lie we tell ourselves to avoid the vulnerability of now.

When I was working as Media Director at Cardiff City, I was always planning for the next match, the next season, the next big break. I was so focused on the future that I nearly missed my father's final months. I was present in body but absent in spirit, my mind always three steps ahead of my heart.

"The tragedy isn't that we don't have enough time—it's that we spend so much of it waiting for permission to truly live."

Now doesn't require permission slips or perfect conditions. Now asks only for your attention, your breath, your willingness to drop the mental chatter and simply be. When we practice mindfulness, we're not just meditating—we're training ourselves to recognise the sacred in the ordinary, the eternal in the everyday.

The Energy of Presence

Time isn't just about minutes and hours; it's about energy. Have you ever noticed how time seems to stretch when you're fully present with someone you love? How a simple conversation over coffee can feel more nourishing than a week of rushed interactions? That's because presence transforms time from a commodity into a communion.

In my work with Spirit, I've learned that those who have passed on don't measure their earthly existence by the number of years they lived, but by the moments when they were truly alive. They speak of the times they felt most connected—to themselves, to others, to the divine spark that runs through all things.

When I give readings, I often hear spirits express regret not about the things they didn't accomplish, but about the moments they missed while they were busy accomplishing. The sunset they didn't notice because they were checking emails. The child's laugh they didn't fully hear because they were worried about tomorrow. The kiss they didn't savor because their mind was already at work.

"Time becomes sacred the moment we stop trying to capture it and start allowing ourselves to be captured by it."


The Mindful Art of Time Stewardship

Mindfulness isn't about slowing down time—it's about deepening into it. When I sit in meditation, five minutes can feel like an eternity or flash by like lightning. The difference isn't in the clock; it's in my relationship with the moment.

True time stewardship means being intentional about where we place our attention. It means choosing connection over distraction, depth over breadth, quality over quantity. It means recognizing that the most productive thing we can do sometimes is simply breathe and be present.

I remember during my darkest period after Dad's death, when anxiety had me in its grip, time felt like an enemy. Minutes crawled by like hours, and I felt trapped in an endless loop of worry and fear. It was mindfulness that taught me to befriend time again, to see each moment not as something to endure but as an opportunity to practice loving kindness—especially toward myself.

The loving kindness meditation that saved my life begins with a simple phrase: "May I be safe, may I be happy, may I be healthy, may I live with ease." But underlying these words is a deeper prayer: "May I be present to this moment, whatever it brings."

The Sacred Pause

Between stimulus and response, Viktor Frankl tells us, there is a space. In that space lies our freedom to choose. But I'd add this: in that space also lies our opportunity to truly live.


"The space between breathing in and breathing out—that's where eternity lives, where the divine whispers, where transformation happens."


This sacred pause isn't empty time; it's pregnant with possibility. It's where we can choose love over fear, presence over productivity, being over becoming. It's where we remember that we are human beings, not human doings.

In our culture of constant motion, the pause feels revolutionary. To stop, to breathe, to simply be—this is an act of rebellion against a world that profits from our distraction. It's a declaration that our lives are not measured by our output but by our depth of experience.

Time as Love Language

Perhaps the most profound gift we can give another person isn't our expertise, our advice, or even our resources—it's our undivided attention. In a world where everyone is partially present, fully showing up is a radical act of love.

When I work with my students, I notice how their energy shifts when they feel truly seen and heard. Not just acknowledged, but witnessed in their fullness. Time given with presence becomes a healing force, a bridge between souls, a reminder that we're not alone in this beautiful, messy human experience.

I think of my wife, who saved me from the darkness of addiction and despair. She didn't save me with grand gestures or life-changing advice. She saved me by showing up, moment after moment, day after day, offering her presence as a lighthouse in my storm. Her time became my sanctuary.

"When we give someone our full presence, we're not just sharing time—we're sharing our life force, our essence, our piece of the divine."

The Eternal Now

As I write this from my home in Wales, surrounded by the energy of ancient ley lines and the whispers of Celtic wisdom, I'm reminded that time is both linear and circular, finite and infinite. We have limited years on this earth, yet each moment contains eternity.

The oak tree outside my window doesn't rush its seasons. It trusts in the rhythm of time, knowing when to leaf, when to flower, when to rest. There's wisdom in this natural timing that our human minds often forget in their urgency to achieve and acquire.

Time is indeed precious—not because it's scarce, but because it's sacred. Each moment is a gift, wrapped in breath and consciousness, waiting for us to unwrap it with our full attention. The question isn't whether we have enough time, but whether we're present enough to receive the abundance that's already here.

So today, I invite you to practice a new relationship with time. Notice the space between your thoughts. Feel the weight of this moment. Breathe into the now with the reverence it deserves. Because in the end, all we truly have is this breath, this heartbeat, this precious, unrepeatable now.


Time isn't running out—it's inviting us in. The only question is: will we accept the invitation?


Be love and give love x

Julian



 
 
 

1 Comment


Thank you Julian, as always, your blog posts are timely. Often I spend so much time looking after others that I forget to make time for me. I already have a self commitment to meditate daily, even if only for 10 minutes, but making time for doing the things that guide me towards my true purpose often take a back seat. Your blog is a timely prompt and one for which I am most grateful. Blessings to you Julian.

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