Time Running

These writings are inspired by the artwork that happens to come along on any given morning and this one, brought the eye to a piece that is about six years old. A piece that was intended to be part of a collaboration with a talented artist who was about eight or nine when this was drawn.  She early on showed a natural ability to capture something words cannot.  This hourglass says so much about life and living.

In this moment, there are many events and occurrences that suggest we are running out of time - it is the invention of our collective "delusion" (reality by agreement) that allows human beings to avoid falling into chaos.  There is a master narrative or agreement that says, "Time exists.".  But in reality, maybe not.  This is what many are realizing.  Yet there are many devices that allow this idea of time to be shared so that things work in an orderly way.  Watches, phones, clocks in public and private spaces – all letting the concept of time be used to ensure that things happen in a way that allows human beings to cooperate - perhaps this is a unique concept in the realm of collaboration and cooperation.  No matter what race, religion, creed, color - people know and live by something called, "time.".

Getting up when the light rises - time to start a day's cycle.  Having a meal in the middle of a cycle - lunchtime.  Having a meal late in the cycle of a day - dinnertime.  Deciding when to go to sleep - nighttime or bedtime.  Time is what keeps things orderly, regular, and life - manageable, individually and collectively It is a valuable and perhaps even indispensable fiction.  

In thinking about time, one recognizes it is constantly "running", no matter our condition or will or intelligence or talents.  There's no stopping it.  And there is no stopping the fact that it will lead everything to the same end - the End.  

It keeps going and this little artwork is a reminder of the fact.  Lately there are lots of stories about aging and the passage of time, leading to reflections on how the mind and body are separating.  Looking in a mirror and seeing a person who doesn't look anything like the person that lives in one's mind.  A common story shared among friends, family and strangers, no matter whether in the thirties or seventies or nineties.  The separation is made clear by new physical challenges, a slowing of the ability to track on conversations that move today in multiple spaces - face to face conversations, exchanges that happen on the radio, commentary on multiple social media platforms, on podcasts, and who knows where else.  The multitude of exchanges happening at once is dizzying.  One has to curate the sources - and there are many - in order to get through a day and attend to the activities of daily life.  

Daily life is where it is all happening.  Moment by moment.  And the connection of things said or done or unsaid or undone affect the next moment – and these are infinite in a lifetime.  As time runs, going faster and increasing capacity for more and more - can lead to sudden stopping - physical and mental.

Perhaps writing is one way to reconnect body and mind.  It requires slowing down the mind, and noticing things that might otherwise be entirely missed.  "Oh, the silence is actually not silent!"  Or, "I feel that part of the body - my legs - are losing the muscle tone that used to be there.  Hmm..."  Or, "I can feel something about that exchange that I didn't see when it happened.  How could I have missed that?"

In everyday living, time just keeps on running and each person only has so much of it.  This hourglass is sweet because it so innocently captures a reality that many find scary - that time will run out.  The blizzard (which is actually happening today both physically and in terms of events in the world), feels gentle but definitely captures cold and the end of a natural cycle in winter.  The lights in the background - blurred are perhaps reminders of joys and warmth that came with life events gone by.  And the little blue flower, singular and firm in its upright and leaning posture seems to say, "I'm here! (still)."  It is like a tiny signal that there's more on the horizon - just don't know what that is until the sand completely leaves the upper chamber of the hourglass.

Will there be a hand that comes into the picture and then, turns the hourglass over so a new flow begins?  Time will tell.