1. You own more than one watch.
2. You don't own more than one watch, every single timepiece that you see owns you. Good news however. Go into DEEP time and a good start is to intentionally set aside an hour a day for stillness and silence. Take the watch off especially when you're going for a walk and do not even need the damned thing. Increase the 'time' to a few hours a day. Rumour has it very well documented and even personally proven that if AND when you decide you've suffered enough, you'll have a sudden onset realisation. Less is more. What matters the most is realising what never mattered in the least. by reduction. Freedom by dropping the deadwood.
3. Every single night before you pensively go to bed, you witlessly ruminate about whether the alarm clock will blast you into another day of multitasking, anxiety, an additional something absurd to fret over, a walking and talking rock with eyelids. Pavlovian's drooling dog syndrome. The GREAT news is that RIGHT NOW, you are vastly more aware than you were less than 90 seconds ago.
4. You can't wait. Well, you can and will. Once patience becomes easy, paradoxically, the hardest part is over with. Practice being aware of what the ticker tape thoughts that run through your mind are and then let them flow on by. Being aware that you've been unaware is AWARENESS.
5. You're incessantly in a rush and you know it but yet you are unaware that you know it. Tantamount to constant white noise. Truth is ALWAYS self-evident. It's recognition, not cognition. I.E., "You have never been and will never be NOT Now." One seamless nanosecond streams effortlessly into another forever Now. "What time is it now?" Well, the question answers itself. That IS DEEP time. If you think this is overly glib and not realistic, that's less of a thought and more of just a habituated, shopworn, highly opportune and even higher level of having bit the cultural bait. You've been hoodwinked and by God, that galls the hell out of your ego.
6. You set alarms and needless notifications on your Smartphone or iPhone and the notifications annoy you into a literal hell but you have become incapable of slowing that maddened mind down so as to realise there is an option. Turn the damnable notifications off.
7. You hate being in a rush but you're not unhappy unless you "think" you are.
8. You pride yourself on being a freethinker and yet all the while wholly clueless that you've been a captive to thinking about one or both wrong sides of the present NOW.
9. You see the word NOW but read the word OWNED.
10. You try to think of creative ideas but simply cannot comprehend that there's nothing remotely creative about "trying" to "think."
11. You feel guilty for feeling guilty and guilty for feeling happy.
12. By Saturday afternoon, you're preoccupied with Monday morning and whether or not your alarm clock will blast into another witless week of being Asleep At The Wheel.
13. You're into pointless platitudes like "Never stop chasing your dreams."
14. It never occurs to you that at this rate, that's not a dream you've been chasing, it's more like a Cheetah. Run that sucker down or use a taser on that nightmare to slow it down long enough grasp it.
15. You say: "As Soon As _______, happens, I'll be happy." But you never are. And round the mountain you hit a lick at the goat-rope again.
16. If you slow down, everything will seem to speed up.
17. You read number 16 but after the word slow, you went into a deeper state of unconsciousness.
18. Whenever you have spare time, you almost go into a panic attack.
19. You're on social media too much and I realise in writing this, I am too.
20. You say you could care less about what others think about you but you're moving into middle-age and you still try to impress people you don't even like.
21. When someone tells you to stop worrying, it pisses you off. When they say: "Worry your ass off." You become furious.
22. You just checked to see what time it is.
23. Something you marginally consciously read seems to make sense, but you can't accept it.
24. You react to every perceived slight, real or imagined.
25. You haven't enjoyed the smell of leaves or noticed the splendid beauty of the seasons since you were a toddler.
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