I’m not sure we truly understand time; how it moves, why. Oh yes, I know, there are explanations of time scientifically, but even scientists don’t know all there is to know about the ticking seconds of our lives, especially those dealing with quantum physics.
What we do know is that time, in fact, moves differently for each of us. One person waiting for test results will tell you that time is moving agonizingly slowly while a person who has only moments left with a loved one is painfully aware of time slipping away.
But this blog is not about time per se, but about the rhythm of life . . . our lives.
Way back in August, it seemed as if November would never come, and while lately I’ve made a concerted effort to live in the moment; to experience the “now,” this time, (excuse the pun,) I did look forward.
Living in the now, is much more difficult than I’d imagined. I seem always to be thinking ahead. What’s going on next week? Let’s see, I have to pick up groceries, and that package at the post office, meet a friend for lunch, physio, oh yeah, and that doctor’s appointment.
Our lives are full of things we have to do soon or shortly. When we aren’t thinking about what things need to get done later today, tomorrow, next week, or even next month, we’re thinking about something that happened a few weeks ago.
Usually, the times we manage to live in the moment are when we’re watching a sporting event, a movie, listening to a concert or having dinner with friends.
So, why was I looking forward to November way back in August? Well, as most of you know by now, I’ve published a book; “Cross.” Most of you have probably read it by now, and most of you already know the answer to the above question! I was, of course, looking forward to my book launch, and my first ever interview by a Ukrainian weekly news and cultural events show, called Kontakt.
I can’t tell you how intimidated I was by these events back in August; overwhelmed really! It’s not that I’ve never stood up and spoken in front of a crowd. In fact, I’m one of those people who loves public speaking, but this was to be in front of folks I’d grown up with, which brought a slightly elevated level of anxiety. Oh, but I digress!
Fast forward to November 19th. It’s all over. Everything. All of it!
In reality, all the things I’d looked forward to (and one I did not,) in November have already past. The book launch, a special lunch with friends, Brad’s birthday, Taylor’s birthday; even this blog.
On a much sadder note, my beautiful, sweet, gentle, Zeus had to be put down last week. He was the most loving cat I’d ever known. In the thirteen years we had him, never ONCE did he ever spit or hiss at anyone; never bitten or scratched anyone, ever! Even years ago when he’d ingested something and had to have on I.V. inserted for a week (we thought he’d die then,) the vet said she’d never met or handled a sweeter animal. As anyone who’s had pets knows, this is the part of (and to quote my husband,) “animal ownership, that sucks!”
I have noticed a palpable decrease in warmth and loving energy around my apartment this week. It is uncharacteristically quiet. Zeusie’s constant conversations with us have ceased. I am missing his presence; my heart is aching; my tears still bubbling up and overflowing, triggered by his favourite blanket or treat. The rhythm of his life has stopped, and in so doing, has caused my rhythm to be interrupted; the cadence altered.
How could his life be gone . . . just like that? Thirteen years. A long time to live with an illness, a brief moment to savour time with a pet.
All life is measured by time, by our limited and minuscule understanding of it. Perhaps we go on from this place, but we know without a doubt that our time HERE is finite. “A time to live, and a time to die.”
When we are aware, in tune, we can feel the tides within. Most times, they rock us gently, back and forth, back and forth. Other times they bring in a tsunami.
The rhythm of life can be quick or slow; shallow, deep; wavy or calm. Sometimes we “go with the flow,” other times we fight against the undertow, aware of being pulled under, but we cannot change it, or stop it. All we can do is bob along under clear skies, or ask for a rope in the storms.
So, live in the now. Enjoy the good times, savour the great, survive the painful and live in awe of the rhythm.
“Forever is composed of nows.”