“Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore. You may not see me here tomorrow.”
Oh, Sister–Bob Dylan
Given the profoundness of Bob Dylan’s words above, it’s time to take another look at time. We speak of where did the time go ?, I don’t have the time, what time is it?, how much time do I have left, yet we never speak of time that time has given us.
EDITOR’S NOTE: ENJOY PART 1 BELOW
It’s irrelevant to speak of what you did with the time you had. The time of that time is gone forever. Time that is now is where you should place your thoughts perhaps also your hopes, fears, and dreams. Never let go of your dreams or your hopes. One day the arrows will point in a direction bringing with it the dawn of a new time in your life from which you will create another chapter in your book that will vividly recall all the times of all your times.
Time is neither a friend or a foe when your time runs out signifying your death is imminent but don’t despair as although you may soon leave your physical body time may yet decide that you need and deserve more time. Time despite my depictions above cannot decide on anything to do with time as time is only a mechanism of measurement.
In the time of my time, I have been fortunate to see a leaf dancing in the air as it falls silently on the ground. My eyes captured the sun shining down into the water of the Atlantic. The moonlight illuminated the water as we sat on wooden benches on the boardwalk of Long Beach, NY where the names where once people. My times soon without sight (yes for a couple of years I lived my life in total darkness as vision left me alone) were times I learned what was cemented in my mind as not being possible was indeed possible but in a different way. My multi-colored multi-sectioned sight cane carved out steps of time so that I may take off in my familiar harried pace chasing after the sound of a car whizzing by so I would know it’s time to stand motionless or perhaps take a few measured steps backward. Each tap of the cane proceeded by the rolling tip set in circular motion whereupon I moved on but not always sure of where I was going.
It was a time where sounds, smells, taste, and mental processes were always in a heightened state of alert. With a touch of a button that my fingers clumsily found I would forcibly push down the right button to hear the time announced.
It was a time where sounds, smells, taste, and mental processes were always in a heightened state of alert. With a touch of a button that my fingers clumsily found I would forcibly push down the right button to hear the time announced. When it came time to inject my insulin my ears counted the times in between clicks until I was sure I had dialed up the correct number of units I needed. There was a time of dependence that lasted only up to the time I needed to be off again as there were trains to catch to bring me to a small island surrounded by water where space was a premium. My “stick” masterfully manipulated me in, around, tapping each step as I descended while reaching above as I ascended. Rhythmic taps transmitted information as to the time before the next time to take on moving again.
In time those days came to an end. Although I was in ecstasy that my eyes could once again witness things they had not been privy to in what seemed like a millennium of contentment. Feelings of sadness befell me when I realized my trusted beloved cane that I traveled with near and far with was no longer needed as time too had passed it by. It still hangs in my closet where I can visit it perhaps yearning for the times we spent together that would be again. The fragile beauty of time froze me out of darkness back into the light. The bond between a man and his “sight assistance device” reached a spot in time when it felt like everything stood still as I hung up my cane for the last time. Somewhere in time, I lost the feeling of being one with my world as I moved on to jungles replete with monetary madness.
For times spent peacefully sitting under a tree save for the occasional thump on my head courtesy of an acorn that a mischievous squirrel gleefully dropped on me would be a special time indeed. When the wind rustled through barren branches shaking off any remaining leaves so that they may crumble and disperse to be seeds for the blooming Spring would bring I knew it was the time of the year for Fall and Winter. Time would soon usher in shorter days with longer lonely nights that were coupled with confusion as my body felt one thing yet the almighty master of all things seconds, minutes, and hours argued convincingly I would live within the rules of the protocols set forth with no time allotted to second-guessing time.
There is cyclical time: time as the slow turning of the seasons, or the cycle of birth, growth, decline, and death. Cyclical time is time as it occurs in nature. All that lives, dies. The species endures, individual members do not. Kohelet contains the most famous expression of cyclical time: “The sun rises and the sun sets and hurries back to where it rises. The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course … What has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”- Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
With time came the time I thought I loved you. With time came the time when none of it was true. Then in between that time came the time in a day of when a little corner of the earth was engulfed in flames. Hellfire burning from every inch of every piece of metal with bodies burning underneath. Time moved along as the death clouds erased the sky blackening out even the tiniest sliver of light. In this time there was no time except time to be overcome by being buried alive below where once a regal structure reigned supreme. The time you took to go nowhere at that time tuned out to be the time you saved your own life as you were not meant to be there at that time. The behemoths of smoke, with a traveling fiery furnace, tortured and twisted every piece of metal, propelling them through the air like launched missiles. Air sent aloft aided by fire needed no time to bring down bricks leaving more to wither and die. Or jump into the mouth of the fire as if to escape from what time would not allow them to escape from which was their final doom. For soon after they would be ashes of what once a human being. It was a time that at no time we should ever forget but take time to pause and remember that time on that day when all hell came out to play.
There’s no turning your back on time or rearranging time. Your time is not all your own nor can you ever own time. Perhaps it may be possible to borrow time from yourself but time will collect its pay. Only time knows when it is that time for me or for you or for him or for her or for them and what that time will be for. The timekeeper of all times has it set for it to be the time for all of time to be under his time and his time alone shall be the only time. Before your eyes behind your eyes beyond your eyes lay the secrets the timekeeper of time may soon be put before you until there is one last curtain call.
If I am not seen here……. If I am not seen there…. If I am known not by name……If I was there but you did not notice me that is okay….If our paths crossed at a time when we did not know each other perhaps one day we will meet again or perhaps not. In the annals of time, whatever was may never be again. Whatever time is it may not be. Had we never met what would our lives be like? If our children do not carry on whatever good we may have done will they instead be catalysts for what is wrong? Time sits comfortably on your wrist, hangs on wall or high above in Grand Central Station right near the exquisite marble staircase. I do not know time nor does time know you or any of us. Time owes us nothing! Time is all we have to either waste away or make a mark that will mark a special place in time. Time.