Draw a breath. Ease your heart. Everything is working out just fine. Whatever you may think about it, everything is on schedule. Everyone in the orchestra has taken his place, and when the maestro raises his baton, the musicians will play and the music begin.

As a musician in life, you are part of the concert. Rehearsed or not, there is a concert. The woodwinds come in to melt your heart. The violins vibrate. A diva sings. The pianist leans forward. You come in on cue. Even if you are quarter past the hour or quarter before, you are on cue. There is no late nor early.

The song that is played is the song that is played. Who is to say that there should have been another song, or that it should have been played at a different hour?

Someone is listening to the music, and their heart is thrilled.

The drums roll. Between the beats, great thunder is heard as well.

The conductor’s baton is raised. It hovers there. Your heart is expectant of the great moment. The great moment comes. You are part of it, yet you cannot make the clock strike. Rain falls when it falls. It may come at your bidding, or maybe it was coming anyway, or it waits until another day.

You steer your car toward a destination, but who is to say when you will reach your destination? There could be a traffic jam or a detour, or you have to stop for gas and wait in line. You arrive when you arrive, and that is the moment of your arrival.

Your life is a balance between patience and impatience, though neither is necessary. You have made a schedule, and when you are behind or ahead or on time, you endow the moment with patience or impatience. You cannot rush the tides, beloveds. Life is always on time.

A young child wants to grow fast, but he grows as he grows. And when the child has lived many years, he cannot stem the tides either. Even the imperfect has its perfection. The milk spilled is also an occasion. Who is to say the milk was not to spill? Who can say that it was imperative that it not spill? Who is it who can say that this moment of timelessness is not perfect as it is, spilled milk or not?

You are in a hurry. Manmade life has deadlines, and you say it is a detriment to you when they are not filled. You want to take time by the shoulders and shake it, but you cannot get your hands around time. Whatever you may want, the sands of time will run their course. They are not horses you can whip to go faster. If the pace of life will not change according to your wish, perhaps you have to change your pace.

Because of arbitrary time, matters are considered urgent. Urgent is an arbitrary label you have designed, cut out, and pasted on. “Urgent” says your label. “Late” says your label, or “Early” says your label. Make a new label that says “On Time.”

Beloveds, what are you to do when the train is late? Pace back and forth? Or take a walk to the park while you are waiting? No point in letting sense of urgency spoil a train ride. Sense of urgency has spoiled many a train ride.

There is no waiting, beloveds. There is just meeting. Meet what arrives when it arrives, and welcome it. Do not say, “You’re late.” Say: “Welcome, you’re just on time. You have arrived at the best possible moment, and I just got here myself.”