“There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them…”
— Jim Croce
My friend Paula suggested I write about TIME. So the first thing that comes to mind is a clock. Which is unfortunate for me since clocks have numbers and I speak Venezuelan better than I speak about anything you can add, subtract, divide, or multiply.
It seems to me when we speak of time, however, we often speak of anything but numbers. We say “I don’t have time,”…as if it’s something you keep in the pantry. We say, “remember the time?” as if it’s a bookmark to an event you want to be able to easily turn to and re-read. We divide our lives into the time before vs the time after. Before his accident. After she remarried. Before we knew any better. After we found her!
We know a story has been told too often or not enough by the introduction, “tell about the time…” or “(sigh) yes, mom, we all remember the time (insert eyeroll here)…”
We use time to convict despite the fact it doesn’t seem to deter the criminal even an ounce: “how many times have I told you to put your cereal bowl in the sink?”
One of the most poetic and remembered passages of scripture speaks to time. The words from Ecclesiastes (possibly made most famous by The Byrds) reminds us that there IS a time for every purpose under heaven…
So now I’m looking at my lovely black round clock, its clear glass face bisected by arrowhead hands, and I imagine those hands instead of pointing to numbers, aiming at words that tell me the time:
- Of Innocence
- Of expiration
- To remember
- Not worth mentioning
- Of Your Life
NOW. I got that one from an old Jimmy Buffett song. It should have received a lot more airtime than it did. That reminds me of the time I went to a Buffett concert when I was so very pregnant. I do love Jimmy, but I will tell you this: that is not a concert you want to attend if you cannot have a drink.
Time…Paula? That is one complicated topic. Heck, every single story I could tell is about the time…
And I will. One story at a time. One post at a time. One day at a time.
But NOW, I’m gonna close my time-pondering with Jimmy’s lyrical philosophy…
“I bought a cheap watch from the crazy man
Floating down a canal
It doesn’t use numbers or moving hands
It always just says now
Now you may be thinking that I was had
But this watch is never wrong
And If I have trouble the warranty said…
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On.”
Oy, Marie! What a wonderful, open, subtle piece. I was captive. And thaaat ain’t easy, since I am 78 and stared writing for money when I was 14.
Good writing is open soul surgery, and I know how it feels. I used to say “I hate to write, but I love to have written.”
Your site is inviting and eaxsy to cruise. So that is what I am going to do.
See you along the way.
I spent a solid 6 hours last night & this a.m. working with the design and still want to change/add some things. I want a place for a sidebar story for example. Nice to know my time paid off though since you found it inviting & easy to cruise. Be still my beating heart it’s workin…
Comments are closed.