2020 Vision: New Decade’s Eve Thoughts

There didn’t used to be such things as years.

There were seasons, summers, winters, moments. But these weren’t reckoned in the modern way. Folks knew what to expect by observing the cycles of nature.

The concept of time was not measured by the clock, but was understood to be evidence of predictable change.

At some point, however, we decided to number and to name the natural cycles, while at the same time still adhering to their rhythm. To do otherwise could mean starvation, deprivation, and eventual death.

Great learned men, scholars, and theologians decided for the rest of us when the so-called common era began, based entirely on supposition.

Because of them, we now view time not as the occurrence of change, but as a ticking clock, with its eras and hours, minutes and millennia, days and decades.

Its relentless march resounds in our ears like the pounding of a drum, reminding us with each passing moment that we are that much closer to the moment of our own death.

Yet, we still observe the passage of a year with a celebration, even though one year rolling over into a next one is not particularly special.

Could this be a hold over from earlier times, when surviving a year really was something noteworthy?

Anyway, Happy New Year.
Happy Surviving 2019.
Happy New Decade.

Love (because what else is there?)

And after life had had it’s way with me,

Sometimes shaken me,

Taken me,

Shoved me around,

Worn me down,

Let me taste joy,

Made sure to show me, that joy,

Was most often fleeting,

That there were challenges,

Constant challenges to be meeting,

Sometimes losing,

Sometimes beating,

When life had dragged me to the point,

Where I could be nothing else but strong,

Where I’d seen so much pain,

That the slightest beauty made me burst into song,

When I was at the point where I could still go on,

But could not take  much more,

Then,

And only then,

Did the universe deliver you,

Gently,

Warmly,

Spectacularly,

At my door.

Always Forward

Time keeps moving forward,
Always forward, measuring change.
Moving energy and matter through space.
Artificially divided into intervals,
We call by different names.
Seasons and seconds.
Hours and eras.
We order our linear lives in this way.
For we too are matter and energy,
Constantly being moved forward by time.
Our form is sentient, observant,
Aware that it’s being moved.
Fearing the moment when awareness ends.
Naming that moment, death.
Matter is neither created, nor destroyed.
So we won’t be literally be gone,
When we’re dead.
We’ll no longer be in the same sentient form,
But we’ll still be here.
Our matter, our energy,
Still being pulled along,
Always forward, by time.

DROWNING & RISING

We were drowning.
Both of us.
and like drowning people do,
we panicked.
Desperately clinging to each other,
whilst at the same time pushing each other away.
Both of us.
Weighed down with baggage.
So much baggage.
Tied fast, to our hands, our feet,
our bodies, our minds, our hearts, our souls.
Pulling us, dragging us, downward,
and apart.
I was dragged so far down
I couldn’t see you anymore.
Didn’t know if you were above me,
or below me.
I only knew I was drowning,
as were you.
Both of us.

In our bid to survive,
we lost each other,
in our frantic attempt to shed ourselves
of all that was weighing us down.
I lost sight of you, as I tried to
cut cords and set myself free,
find me,
and in time,
I did.
Finally rising up to the surface,
having shed myself of everything,
I manage to scan the horizon,
and there, much
to my eternal surprise,
I see you, in the distance,
bobbing freely, and serenely.
I can see a glow around you,
and I start to swim slowly in your direction,
my heart lifting,
when I realise it appears,
you are also swimming,
towards me.

Man, Time, Pain

There are few constants in the world, and two of those are of pain and suffering.  Pain is a wonderful thing.  It reminds us that we are fallible and alive.  If we did not feel pain, we would be dead.  We must embrace pain, as we embrace failure.  We must realize that we are utterly worthless and that trying to accomplish something worthwhile is an exercise in futility.  Something will inevitable go wrong, the spoke of the wheel will fail, and the best-laid plans will falter under the enormous weight of reality.  There is no redemption, there is no hope.  Man ─ as he stands ─ is alone.  His own thoughts will betray him, his body will decay, and time is neither his friend nor his enemy.  Time, an artificial construct has made slaves of us all.  Before the invention of the watch, the most despicable of devices, there was only night and day as measurement.