Where did the time go?

I feel old saying that. I feel old anyway, like I’ve aged 20 years in a very short period of time. My last post was in 2020.

It’s 2024. Four years went by in a blip.

Today I feel like I am in a dream…some days it feels like a nightmare. I just want to wake up. Then I realize I AM awake. Shit.

It’s going to take some time to process the past few years and put it to words. But I have to. Writing is HOW I process and a lot has happened in my world, in OUR world. Perhaps if I get it out of my head, I might start thinking more clearly. Maybe my menopausal memory might get better. I’m not too old to make wishes. Maybe the distractions of memories and thoughts will become more bearable, more clear. Maybe I can help someone else by sharing my stories. Maybe. Writing can’t hurt. Don’t worry…if you don’t know me, all will become clear in time. Stay with me here.

I heard a term for the first time the other day: automatic writing. I am told that this type of writing is where you just start writing whatever comes, letting the hands just write without pre-thought. I’m intrigued. Isn’t this how people journal and blog anyway? If I thought about what I wanted to write, even for a second, before putting words to paper…I’d ruin it. Guaranteed.

Today I want to talk about time. As it turns out, time is this abstract weird thing. If not for clocks, jobs, and expectations we (or others) place on us, we would only know time by the chemical composition and decomposition of particles. We put names to these processes, followed by meaning, followed by expectation.

The flowers are wilting. The leaves are falling. It is Fall. I need to rake the leaves and put them in bags for the people to come and pick them up.

The flowers are blooming. The trees are budding. It is Spring. I need to buy stock in Benadryl.

My stomach is growling. I am hungry. I need to eat healthy.

I have no energy. I am tired. I need not sleep more than 8 hours per day.

I have lost. I am sad. I should try not to cry in public.

Once we put a name to these, we create human constructs of what should follow. These human constructs just pile on top of each other until we forget that they are all just made up to promote order, comfort, or a sense of urgency so we don’t waste time.

We don’t know how much time we get. One thing that has become clear to me as I wax and wane between my youth and my older years is this: we do have a choice.

A choice on how we spend our time. A choice on which construct we wish to adopt. Do we rake the leaves and put them in bags? Or do we pile them in the compost pile to return them to the earth right here in our own yard? Or do we leave them alone to feed the ground upon which they lay? Do we order that cheesesteak? Do we sleep as much as we like? Do we allow our feelings to show no matter where we are?

How do we handle what is thrown our way, what we choose to pay attention to, how we show ourselves to the world?

We are humans with an expiration date. We don’t know when our times comes to a close, and it not always up to us on how that rolls out. Fight it, ignore it, or befriend it: we all share this trait.

I’ve had a lot time to myself lately. A lot of time to listen to the wind, the trees, the symphony of life swirling around me. The message is clear. Slow down. Be as present as I can. Notice the smallest of things. Try not to be distracted by the race, the competition, the negative emotions or toxic energies trying to sneak in.

Just be.