“Time is not the main thing. That’s the only thing.” ~ Miles Davis
When I first read the quote it hit me in my heart. Not because it sounded profound, but because I had been learning slowly and painfully for so many years.
Time feels like a race. Or maybe a shadow. Or trickster. One day it slid my fingers like water. Other days it dragged me like a heavy cart. But always, it was something outside of me. Was I trying to chase or run away?
I was panicked for much of my life. It’s obvious, not in a way that taps your own feet, but in a quiet, internal way, a constant sense that something should happen, happen faster, or already happen. I measured my life by milestones: achievements, breakthroughs, and arrivals. I told myself I was productive, but really, I was uncomfortable with the silence.
Turning Point: Time is not linear
Before all this, I thought of sound as something external, music, noise, conversation. But Nada Yoga changed that understanding. With the tranquility of these long days, the sound became an anchor. Even the ham on the heater and the skewer on the watch became a companion. When I paid my full attention to them, they stopped being background noise and became part of the present moment.
This is when you start to realize that time isn’t as linear as you always believed. The past and future were ideas unfolding in my mind, but the sounds of the present – tone, breathing, the subtle vibrations of my chest – were undeniable. And every time I adjusted it, I realized that myself was grounded again.
Physics agrees in a strange way. Einstein calls time a “stubbornly persistent fantasy,” and in the language of relativity, time doesn’t pass as we feel. Some physicists believe that the past, present and future all exist at once. What we experience as “now” depends on where we stand, so to speak, our frame of reference.
That doesn’t mean it’s not time. That is how our experiences are shaped by attention, memory and movement.
This insight is reconstructed, although time doesn’t feel urgent. If time is an illusion, it may be less seconds, but it itself becomes more about consciousness itself. What we call “Now” is not a slice between before and after. It is the field we enter from being. That’s why mindfulness and NADA yoga are important here. They are not coping techniques, they are ways of looking at them.
With the teaching of the 8x road, I felt this was most connected to right mindfulness and right concentration. But instead of trying to complete these steps, I simply allowed the sound to lead me there. Following the thread of vibration was an exercise in existence. I didn’t care what time the clock said. The only real moment was that I could hear, feel and see what was open.
When the time is too fast
In the end, I began to feel better. My body was regaining strength and my thoughts were clearer. I started doing more, breathing more slowly, walking more, and planning. But with that return, it brought about a different kind of challenge: speed of life.
It’s incredible that once the momentum comes back, you can forget about the tranquility. Email. business. An endless list of things we should have already done. I “is back,” but I realized something curious. I missed the late time. It’s not discomfort, it’s spacious. Simplicity. The depths I discovered when life wasn’t asking me to move that fast.
I tried to hold on what I learned. It reminds me that existence doesn’t have to be complicated. Organize it into a soft drone or rest in the inner ham that you can feel when you pay attention. That little ritual has become a way to soften the edges of my daily life. It reminded me that even when life is loud and fast, something quiet still awaits me.
And once again, I turned to eight times the path. This time it was an appropriate effort. Not a struggle-like effort, but a calm discipline to hurry back and not forget yourself, listen. Patience is not something you master once, after all. It’s something you practice over and over again in a small, quiet way.
The sound of patience
What surprised me most was that I realized that patience had sound. It’s not necessarily silence.
Sometimes there is less ham in the fridge at midnight. Sometimes it’s a steady beat of the far drums in the music. Sometimes it’s my own breath, heartbeat, or pulse, and reminds me that I’m here.
And existence also has its own unique rhythm. The more I tuned, the more I saw how long it would take when I stopped resisting. Some mindful minutes can feel full and rich. You can feel like there’s nothing to hurry.
We say “spend time” when we enjoy ourselves, but I have found something deeper: when we are fully present, time expands. When I hear what’s here, I really listen and I don’t feel late. I’m not behind. I feel the whole thing.
This doesn’t mean I’ve understood it all. I still lose patience. I’m still checking my watch too much. But now I have a practice back. It’s not perfect, it’s an exercise built on sound, breath, and quiet trust that all unfolds in its own age.
The longer you walk this path, the more you realize that the pain of time is actually not a few minutes or even a time. It was about resistance. It was about the belief that the present moment was never enough. Something I had to achieve before I got somewhere, become someone and rest.
But through mindfulness, especially through listening practice, I have discovered a more gentle truth, whether it is the soft whispering tone of the nada yoga breeze or the ordinary sounds of everyday life.
The present moment is not something we make money. That’s what we’re going to get into.
And when we do, when we stop fighting and start hearing it, we find something unexpected. It’s richness, not emptiness. I haven’t been waiting, but I arrived.
Closing Reflection
As I’m writing this now, I’m playing a soft, net-like drone. It’s a barely shifting, but somehow it stabilizes me. It reminds you to breathe. It reminds me to slow down. It reminds me that I am not late – I am here.
I think that’s a real gift for both mindfulness and Nada Yoga. Rather than helping us to “make the most of our time,” we help to feel the time differently, not as pressure, but as being.
And I’ll leave this to you:
Next time you feel like you’re in a hurry or feeling unsettled, stop it. Close your eyes. Listen to the quietest sound in your room or in you. It may not be music, it may be beautiful, but it is authentic. And with that sound, no matter how small, you may find an entrance to the present.
And now, as Miles Davis said, time is not just the main thing, it is the only thing.
About Tony Collins
Tony Collins, EDD, MFA is a documentary filmmaker, teacher, musician, writer and consultant with 40 years of experience. His work explores creative expression, academic rigor and non-fiction storytelling throughout the United States, Central America, Asia and the United Arab Emirates. In 2025, he reconsidered self-publishing creative scholarships: reviews in films and new media, and challenges traditional academic reviews in films and new media. Website: anthonycollinsfilm.com
