TIME...or My Existential Side...

 Time Has Come ~The Chambers Brothers

Time…somewhat illusory, don’t you think? I’ve thought about time my whole life really; and from a whole bunch of different perspectives and viewpoints depending on such variables as my age, circumstance and frame of mind. In fact, I even observe time in visuals – one in particular. Since I was a child I have always pictured the year – 12 months - like a clock. January is at 12:00; June at 6:00 and so on. I don’t know what prompted that visual but I’ve always had it and when I think of a month, I see it on a clock - always. But I digress…

Time…it is something we often take for granted, especially in our youth. I never thought about tomorrow in my teens and twenties. I didn’t plan a thing and lived only for the day. I suppose I had my reasons for that…doesn’t matter now. I remember at the age of 25, thinking, wow, I’ve got 25 more years before even hitting 50! Time in those days was an endless luxury. Days were longer and there seemed an infinite array of possibilities laid out before me. By the time I hit my mid 30’s my perspective was starting to shift a bit. I saw my mother and step-dad aging; watched their friends die and worried…how much longer before time would force me to endure their loss? I noticed the days becoming shorter. Still, at the age of say 37, I perceived an extravagant amount of time ahead of me – more than 10 years until I even hit fifty.

Time…it is camouflaged by seconds, minutes, weeks, days, months and years. 40 was a bit of a turning point for me. The folks were ill and where once I’d counted on them for assistance, they now counted on me. My own children were in the early stages of adulthood and I unwittingly became a grandmother at the age of 41. I felt the noose of time tightening around my neck.

Time… “is a sort of river of passing events, and strong as its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.” ~Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.  I’m now in my early 50’s. Somewhere – I’m not sure of the exact time or place, or the year or particular age, in the midst of the endless luxury of time, a small seed of awakening has been occurring, bringing with it the awareness of the passage of time. My view of time is vastly altered from the perception of my youth. Oh, I still see the clock – that never changes; only now I hear the ticking as well. My parents are gone and I’ve lost a dear friend. My children are well into adulthood and I’m watching my grandchildren grow, oh so fast. There is no denying the speed with which each moment in time is passing.

Time…, “Tomorrow and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day.” ~William Shakespeare. The interpretation of the word illusion is: “action of mocking;” “something that deceives or misleads intellectually;” “Perception of something objectively existing in such a way as to cause misinterpretation of its actual nature,” “a pattern capable of reversible perspective” (Merriam Webster). And that is time; an impossible to win game, an anomaly and something not to be grasped. Time is like a runaway train. You cannot keep up with it and don’t know how it has slipped through your fingers. I was just feeding my baby girl and yet 32 years have passed. I’m a grandmother with sore fingers, hormonal issues and gray hairs hidden by a $4 bottle of dye.

Time…it’s like a thief in the night. At the age of 53 I must conclude that the only way to grasp time is to let go of it. It’s not real. What is real is the moment in which we/I exist right now. The ones before and the ones to come are phantoms that exist to steal us away from savoring the present moment. Too much awareness of time forces one to live in a story of the past and/or a projection of the future, melancholy, angry or wistful for what has been and anxious, striving, fearful or discontent for what may or may not come.

Time has come today…to acknowledge and cherish this moment in time and recognize that is all there ever is.

Time…
“Now the time has come,
There are things to realize.
Time has come today…
Time has come today…”
~Chambers Brothers

Foiled again…or, would you like some cheese with that whine?

Foiled:  To prevent from being successful; to thwart.

I swear, there’s a conspiracy. Because, really – I just don’t get it. Maybe it’s my destiny? Perhaps I have a subconscious need to fail? I was born under a bad sign? I’m being tested…Someone has to flunk out…why not me?

I awoke in a bit of a funk this morning. It happens occasionally. As a rule I try to avoid thinking about this stuff, but sometimes it has its way with me. Today must be that day.

Since this is my blog and there are only about three people actually who read it, allow me to wallow whine for a few moments without guilt.

I’ve always liked the story about the Phoenix rising from the ashes. You know, that mythical bird whose life burns fiercely at the end and is reduced to ashes? But from the ashes, a new phoenix egg is hatched and the phoenix rises to live again; a resurrection of sorts or a miraculous comeback. There are a few different versions but the one I like best is where “the new phoenix embalms the ashes of its old self in an egg made of myrrh and deposits it in the Egyptian city of Heliopolis (sun city in Greek)” (Wikipedia). It is said that the bird's tears contain healing abilities of pureness, and their cry is that of a beautiful song.

Anyway, I have liked to apply that scenario to my own life (delusions of grandeur?). I have believed that hard work, energy, determination and ambition would somehow bring about that “rebirth” that I was looking for. I would overcome my humble and misguided beginnings. Damn it all, I was going to prove something, although now, for the life of me, I can’t say exactly what.

I realized early, albeit not early enough, that I had to do something to ensure that I would never have to depend on another person for survival again. It became my mission.

I’m a musician - at heart - primarily a singer. It’s in my blood, my family line – it’s me. I wanted to learn an instrument and took a few piano lessons but felt I needed to work toward something with which I could support myself and my family after a divorce in my 20’s left me with 2 small children, a home, no child support and a $7 per hour job. So I went to school..for 20 years on an off. I took advantage of government programs for single moms. After I remarried, I took out federal loans to continue because after all, I was making sure I could fend for myself. I wanted to major in music but couldn’t see how I could support us on a musician’s salary. I also longed to study psychology but thought it was a tenuous link to a decent financial future. I chose human resource development, not because I loved the idea, but because it sounded doable. So many manufacturing companies in the area that would need HR people. I obtained a degree in HR, not quite making it into the field – somehow still stuck at the insurance agency. But no problem!  Surely a master’s degree would be the thing. So, I got a master’s in training and development because it was easy – I could continue on at Oakland University and attend off campus sites which was easier for me with my full time job. Additionally, Instructional design, the emphasis I chose, had the possibility of earning a nice sum in the future.

Fast forward to the future – 2009. I graduated 3 years ago. I am still working for the same small insurance agency that I have been at for almost 22 years. I cannot, I repeat, CANNOT, get into my field. In fact, I cannot seem to get into another job anywhere. It is not for lack of trying by the way (ok, not trying that hard lately).

I am not doing any music…I suppose I should be but I don’t know how anymore. I don’t want to go to church and I don’t want to sing worship music. I don’t play an instrument and there’s not a huge market for 53 year old singers who don’t even have their own repertoire and/or instrument. Yeah, boo hoo.

I am very interested in social activism and work on the fringes with a group that is currently being revitalized but I somehow feel lost there as well.

I have concluded that I have wasted so much precious time and energy doing things I felt I was supposed to do, that were supposed to help me get started on my path to ……I don’t know what…somewhere, but instead, find myself running up against my old nemesis yet again; the stone wall.

I still have desire to work, be successful, do things I love, but I may be running out of energy, willpower and vision. Don't get me wrong, there are many wonderful things about my life, but for this particular pity party I'm focusing on my work/creative life. 


As is often the case, I’ve learned my lessons well and I know what mistakes I’ve made…now! I have discovered them just a bit too late. Well, in truth, it’s probably never too late to figure out what you did wrong…but hey, this is my whine okay? While there is life left to salvage and while I’m still one to make the best of a situation, i.e. … taking lemons and making lemonade, the sadness over what could have been lingers and as I am wont to do, I revisit the losses occasionally and entertain a moment of mourning self-pity.

Foiled again. Worst of all...foiled by my own choices or lack thereof. 

But wait, there it is…that teeny part of me that is an eternal optimist (I hate her sometimes). But she’s in there nonetheless. That’s the part that makes me try again. So, like that frickin’ phoenix, I will dig myself up out of those ashes, metaphorically speaking, and rise again.  Well, at least, I'll keep on trying.  Ghaaa!

WE LIVE IN HOPE

Every underprivileged and or minority group believes they have cornered the market on despair. To the impoverished, under-paid, out of work, hungry and homeless, there is no more dire straits than theirs. To be fair, for each group with their own particular paradigm, the feelings are real, palpable. But the truth is, where there is one pocket of misery, you can be certain that somewhere, there is another that is much worse.

Should that thought bring comfort and cheer? No…but it may perchance provide a sense of solidarity with those to whom life has been less than kind and the knowledge that one is not alone in the dark. It may offer a vague unnamed sense of relief that can only come from knowing that one’s present distress is not the darkest of scenarios.

So, we take our peace from counting our blessings and thanking the powers that be that we aren’t so and so, and them over there… and thus, we are comforted and go on to live another day. We live in hope.