Considering its weightlessness... of late - it's been weighing heavily. How we measure and record it. How we name it - by the hour...the minute...the day...the month and often the year. How it can fly much too quickly...and how it can stop and stand perfectly still.
The clock ticking. The calendar page turning. The seasons changing. The years passing from one to the next.
And yet - we are all marking time. It confines and defines us. It demands and commands of us. It dictates how we spend our precious days.
But - what is it this notion about the importance of time? Why is it that we try so hard to quantify and qualify that which is so indefinable...so impalpable...so beyond our control?
To deny its importance would be to deny the importance of water and light and air. Time clearly exists - but how and where and why?
I breathe in...and I breathe out. Time is passing. If I breathe slowly...will time slow too?
These days - it seems - I'm looking back with a wistful longing and nostalgia...while at the same time looking forwards to all that's exciting and new. Somewhere here - in the middle of there - I find myself suspended. In one moment - I'm holding much too tight...in the next I'm letting everything go.
And the wheels are churning and turning. I can't quite catch-up. Time doesn't stop. Not for me...not for anyone. Not for yesterday...and certainly not for tomorrow.
I breathe in.
I am here. Now. In this moment. In this real time.
I can't touch it. I can't measure or weigh it. I can't see or hear or taste it. And yet - I can feel it.
Somewhere in this indeterminate in-between - it somehow exists. I find myself suspended precariously between what was and what will be.
Perhaps it is all in my mind.
It will come. It will go. It always passes.
I breathe out.
I'm still here. In this moment. The only time is this time and just this...is this time.