He Fa on the White Rabbit

Two long white ears stand differently, one straight and one bent; broad cheeks and low eyelids bring He Fa's hesitation into the rabbit face. A green waistcoat appears within a brown-red long dress coat. An enormous gold pocket watch almost fills the belly, its chain hanging forward, yet the short legs are not hurrying. The White Rabbit association is established, while the image pauses between checking the time and asking why one must hurry.

A clock can indicate time without deciding what each minute should be given to. If I stay anxious only because the hands are moving, speed soon loses its object. I am willing to keep the responsibility of punctuality while needing to know whether an agreement still holds, who is waiting and which consequences of missing it can be repaired. Without these relations, lateness may become only an unending self-reproach.

The giant dial places measurable time over the front of the body, while small feet remind me that a journey is still limited by a particular stride. Looking more frequently does not necessarily make one travel faster; constantly displaying urgency may also consume time for actual preparation. I do not want to cancel reminders, but return them to where they can help action, without judging the whole self anew at every check.

He Fa slows the White Rabbit's familiar speed without making this character necessarily wiser. Delay affects others too, and composure without an answer can equally become a burden. What is needed is a clear statement: when I can arrive and how to adjust if I cannot, rather than turning every situation into an anxious or composed face.

The watch is still held and the long ears have not withdrawn. I first confirm the next appointment, then let the short feet set off. Time need not gain power to arrange all of life merely by being made large.