Time Capsule Swallow
I finally have a moment. A moment to take a breath, sit back, smell the new kitchen air in my new nature-engulfed, heavily treed riverside home, and free fall into the existence of the day.
There's a sad, stark beauty to this life and I think it can be summed up in this truth:
When we are well, and connected, and living in a full, fresh way, time is a lightspeed silver jet above the clouds, and we are usually ram-jammed busy and unable to really step back and take mental snapshots of all of the beauty we are experiencing.
But when we are unwell, or sad, or low, or down on our luck, or not in the best frame of mind or relational atmosphere with those around us - we have all the time in the world. Too much, even.
Time is a taunter - a fickle minx that lurks in the shadows. We think we might grasp it and see a glimpse of its movement...and then it is gone. I think the best we can do with it is just to zen in - take a minute away from phones and computers, and just be in the stillness.
The day is getting on. The late day sun of the post 1:30 glow hits in, and we start to think about our homes. We get into our comfy mindspaces - filled with music and blanket forts and glow-in-the-dark star ceilings.
We tuck in for the winter, and hope we can sleep it off again and emerge renewed.
