We live in such an interesting time. Time as we know it is speeding up. We live in manic, frantic moments, like we're on speed, caricatures of ourselves,, talking on phones, texting in the middle of intersections, in the middle of meals with our beloveds, as though every message missed is an indictment, an accusatory finger that points out our irreversible flaws .
We are being pushed forward in manufactured time, for we created the pace at which we live, in a chaotic world that will only increase in its chaos....this is the hallmark of 2015. And who knows what lies beyond this.
I just finished Mitch Albom's book. I am sitting on a log by the river close to the Cambie bridge. In front of me, a little distance away, a man has just pulled out his cello. He and I ponder the movement of the water...the still frenzied gesticulations of the bridge and its frequent emergency vehicles, the laughter of the children and their parents behind us, the party boat intersecting with those who have just returned from whale watching ..and I know, along with the cello player and the children, that to remain ourselves we need to reach deep into that which is important to us: play, the sound of the river, the beginning of a lament on the cello, "Stand By Me" , the scratching of my fountain pen across the paper..
There is only one TimeKeeper...and our definition of time, how we choose to interpret the ebb and flow of our precious lives, has never taken on a greater significance than it has now.
We are being pushed forward in manufactured time, for we created the pace at which we live, in a chaotic world that will only increase in its chaos....this is the hallmark of 2015. And who knows what lies beyond this.
I just finished Mitch Albom's book. I am sitting on a log by the river close to the Cambie bridge. In front of me, a little distance away, a man has just pulled out his cello. He and I ponder the movement of the water...the still frenzied gesticulations of the bridge and its frequent emergency vehicles, the laughter of the children and their parents behind us, the party boat intersecting with those who have just returned from whale watching ..and I know, along with the cello player and the children, that to remain ourselves we need to reach deep into that which is important to us: play, the sound of the river, the beginning of a lament on the cello, "Stand By Me" , the scratching of my fountain pen across the paper..
There is only one TimeKeeper...and our definition of time, how we choose to interpret the ebb and flow of our precious lives, has never taken on a greater significance than it has now.