3 October 2019
A great deal of
time is spent regretting my past or leaping into my future, while the present
moment escapes detailed attention. Personal time resurrected may expunge whole
time, though: past lacking knowledge of history,
future lacking purpose and plan. Concentration on the immediate and personal,
advised by new age masters, closes us to the spaciousness of time: its promise,
its sometimes dire fate.
The kind of time
I’m missing is time around. Around activities, commuting, conversations, and all
artistic practices. Some things can’t properly be done without swathes of time
around. Eroded by canvassers, pets, calls from friends reminiscing old times,
seekers of money or volunteers. Children both need and consume time around.
It’s the space between letters and words; the silence between the notes.
Exploded by screens, ringtones, news and everlasting opinions.
Unfocused time, free of deadlines,
reactions, paperwork, recorded messages. Time expanded away from medical
appointments, crises, cortisol and sleep. Calm time for walking around, patting
things down, thinking along, pottering, daydreaming, getting poised. A
peripheral vision of time.
Not for nothing is
my favourite Bible book Ecclesiastes. Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher,
all is vanity. Find space in time. Blessed time around.
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