Category Archives: time

Sorry, those sparks are slipping.

I love the present with its layers
of seconds faceted like sparks
hammered off the glinting surface.
I want to stay here endlessly,
standing at the convergence of sand and water….
I dread the future, yet it arrives
little by little. Knowingly we disappear into it.

–Alan Soldofsky, from a longer poem, “Current.”

sandpipers sparkle sea sand

I like to think about time, even though it can be a little crazy-making, and this poem brought to mind the song by the Steve Miller Band (below), which I appreciate mostly for that one line that repeats and repeats like a clock ticking. Both the poet and the songwriter are using the present moments to anticipate the present becoming the past, which may not be a waste of time, because it is God Who made us to be philosophers after all….

Before my late husband became ill, he liked to take me every so often to a place where he could sing karaoke. There was a friendly man there always, whose name I think was Mike, and he often sang this song, which I never got tired of. If you don’t know it, you can click on the link to listen:  Steve Miller Band

Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I’m free
Fly through the revolution

Just a little meandering meditation that is probably not edifying! And how much time slipped by while I was using it and musing over it…?

Well, let’s consider words about time that are certainly more grounding:

 … Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light. See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. (Ephesians 5)

 

Gretchen sand sm

Lord, have mercy on us,
and keep us against the day when You wrap us and all of time into Your eternal Kingdom.

Beyond the grave and beyond time.

cemetery-markers-dont-know-where

“Saint John Chrysostom says in one of his writings that the terrible thing is, when someone dies, that we look at the person whom we loved and say, ‘And yet, I have been unable to love him, love her to perfection.’ But then we must remember that life does not cease with death, that life continues, that for God all are alive, and that our mutual love and our mutual power to forgive go beyond the grave and beyond time. This is what Father Lev Gillet called a certainty of hope.”

-Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

Amy Lowell laments the loss of leisure.

The idea of leisure is almost un-American, in its disregard for achievement, efficiency, and time-management. Do you deep down suspect that to enjoy leisure is to be lazy? Laziness has no part in leisure as Amy Lowell knows it to be, which is as a Presence to be cherished for its “teeming vigor.” To abandon oneself to “unmeasured time,” and the silences and delights of Now, is to make ready to receive gifts that God can’t give us when we are scurrying to and fro.

Before cell phones, which tempt us to flit about from a text message to a game to an Instagram photo, those in less-developed countries might at least have enjoyed leisure, as Richard Swenson wrote about in his book Margin. They are often poor, and have short life spans, but he found that they were happier than we who are continually in the red as regards time, if not money. The number of people in the world without cell phones has surely shrunken drastically since he wrote.

Leisure: the Basis of Culture is a title and a truth (by Josef Pieper).

LEISURE

Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone age,
When hours were long and days sufficed to hold
Wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled
By shortening moments, when no gaunt presage
Of undone duties, modern heritage,
Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold
Thy presence from this over-busy world,
And bearing silence with thee disengage
Our twined fortunes? Deeps of unhewn woods
Alone can cherish thee, alone possess
Thy quiet, teeming vigor. This our crime:
Not to have worshipped, marred by alien moods
That sole condition of all loveliness,
The dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time.

–Amy Lowell