I was just going through some of my more recent posts. I save them in a folder, strangely enough called, blog. Remarkable title, ay?
Anyways, I was rolling back through the last couple months worth of posts and I thought to myself, “My, how the time flies by.” Sure enough, it flies by, and real fast too. I went back to the early part of June and another thing dawned on me. Remembering back to the cold, dark, snowy winter, I remember saying to myself how much I was craving the warmer summer months. I remember being sick and tired of the cold. I remember hating having my fingers sting from the frigid temps every time I went out back to feed the feathered flyers and furry foragers. I remember huddling inside my thermal shirt, my hoody, my coat, gloves and hat. I remember the wind whipping through my body like my fingers rifling through my drawer in the fridge for more chocolate. I remember also thinking how long it seemed until those warmer summer days would be here, and now, here we are, nearly two months past the start of summer. Now I find myself thinking that fall is just around the corner and winter not too far behind.
I’ve written of time and how it has a habit of sneaking up on you. The busier you are, the faster it seems to stroll on by.
With my health issues this past winter, the time warp syndrome acquired different points of existence. The time during all of my treatments was a frantic blur. After those ended in early February, time seemed to downshift as it moved off the highway and approached spring. The more I had to do, the less time it seemed that I had to do it in.
I pulled out my human being manual and flipped through the index to try and find the chapter that went more into detail of this anomaly. I couldn’t find it in the index, the glossary, the other part of the whatcha ma call it, and realized that I had no idea where this post is going.
I guess what I’m trying to say, or figure out, or realize is that the fabric of time is incredibly delicate and extremely important to just about everything that surrounds our lives. Some days it feels like I haven’t done much of anything at all, and other days it feels like I have accomplished many things. Some days seem like I’m heading into a strong head wind, and other days it feels like I’m coasting down hill all day long on my favorite bike at complete ease with my world and all its surroundings. I like those days the best, but they don’t come along every day.
I guess that in order to really enjoy those sorts of days, you have to experience the days when it seems that everything is an uphill struggle. Heaven knows I have had a few of those in my life, as we all have. It’s like so many other instances in our lives. We don’t win every encounter. If we did, the thrill of victory would be a watered down version of an amazing thing.
I had to stop just then and regroup my thoughts, because I didn’t know where the next line was coming from. I suppose that life is a lot like that too. Not everything is planned, or I should say, we don’t know what’s around every corner. The best learning comes from experience of the unknown.
Hey! That makes perfect sense, I mean, where else is learning supposed to come from if it’s not from the unknown? If we knew what to expect, how would we craft new and developing ways to tackle different situations? How would we be able to think on our own if we weren’t forced to? How would we develop skills that allow us to maneuver and figure and react and come up with ideas?
This makes me think of that post I wrote a ways back that talked about absorption, adaption and advancement. Man, that covers so much of the structure of my life, of our lives. The mind is a tireless tool that is always thinking of new things, and reminiscing over those times in our lives that have handed us brand new ways wrapped around brand new days.
No matter how tired we think we are, we never stop thinking about things. We never stop wondering and worrying and contemplating and figuring and through it all, we still find time to think a little bit more.
The essence of time is the art of existence.
Tic, tic, tic.