Having the time to think and taking the time to think are, for me, two different things.
Having the time depends merely (merely, she says) on my schedule, and how busy I am. But taking the time to think means actually stopping, inside my head, my normal patterns. Such as listing the errands left to run today, tomorrow, this week; nattering on at myself about the latest plot hole. It means stopping, and Thinking. Capitalised because sometimes it's work: I have this dreadful habit of sliding away from the issue.
If I'm thinking about something significant, my frontbrain tries almost anything to avoid considering it. I'll start out on the right track, and then all of a sudden I throw myself a distracting thought, must remember to do such and such, or whatever it should happen to be, and then before I know it I'm back to useless burble. Now, maybe the backbrain just wants to work on the issue silently and quietly in the background. And I can respect that, because that's the way I like to work on problems. But I'm also a control freak and, quite frankly, the backbrain is altogether too sly and sneaky for my comfort. 😉
Of course, there's also the other kind of thinking, the meditative kind, where I let my thoughts slide in and out and I don't try to hold on to anything. I very, very rarely take the time to do this anymore. Which is a shame, because it really grounds me. I'm much calmer if I let myself stop mid-walk and stare at a tree or the ocean or a cat in someone's window. Or into nowhere, really. But, you see, I drive more than I walk these days, and stopping mid-drive is impractical, to say the least.
In a stroke of synchronicity, Nadia Cornier is musing about something similar: taking the time to do things properly. I like what she's saying, an awful lot. Note to self: stop rushing. You're no good when you rush. And really — what's the hurry?