In a world driven by schedules, dates, and tangible landmarks of time, I have chosen a different rhythm to which my heart beats. I don’t mark my time with dates, holidays, faded wisdom, or karma holders. Rather, my existence sings with the colors of memories, the whispers of feelings, and the variety of emotions and senses that form my experiences of life. Time is an inescapable linear progression of our reality. But in attempting to make sense of its relentless march, we’ve become attached to the irrelevant social construct of dates, which to most, become anchors in our existence year after year. They tether us to shared histories, common celebrations,…