Time is to be; as we drift through unknown dreams of primitive form in dark, warm wombs.Time arrives like the dream-like smiles of dawn's first golden etching on the very grand rock of ages.
Time burps with endless mindless energy as insights accumulate alongside impatient friendships.
Time becomes cyclical as lessons are re-learned and existence becomes a drag on timelessness.
Time shift into dusk as insights deepens and new energies abound; as understanding becomes emotionally dense and personally secure; as light takes intriguing shape and form.
Time disappears as golden clouds turn dark and ominous; as failure confronts; as time shifts out.
Time becomes endless as myths provide comfort and ancestors real.
Time heals as cycles repeat; as lives become distant and then non-existent.
To what extent do you live now?
Where time is the cuddle of a puppy; the infectuous happiness of a young bundle of child; or the impossible serenity of a life lived in the now?
Where time is the note you tap on a keyboard, with a lingering smile to guide the knowledge of a mind alive; active, creative.
Perhaps you live in your memories?
Memories play tricks as happiness dominate and sad notes drift into the mist. Memories etch bitter as old despairs erupt in decay. Memories become shifting sands as closeness make way for distance. Memories get stuck in old forms and old notes, in old values and old confusions. Memories confuse foundations for living rooms, where cold winds batter truths.
In your dreams?
Psychedelic distortions litter the chambers that are visited night after night, but never known. Dreams build hope, but where is the structure of the now? Dreams become repetitive, in new forms, but then plastic, as cynicism forces the resignation of mind.
Time is a memory in horror of dreams deferred. Time is a dream in defiance of memories diffused. Time is the Now and the Now is Time; but the best time is the time of play. To play is to live; to be new; and play is an option in all: anytime.
Do you live in your memories; do you live in your dreams; to what extent do you live in the Now?
2 comments:
Alive? As in dancing?
I think only as tiny babies are we free, do we play in the present. Each moment we live instantly transforms into a memory, which binds with other memories...they accumulate & mingle with our growing sense of future. Time blurs as we increasingly contemplate past-present-future as one confusion, until present goes from crystal to murky, murkier… on and on through childhood, until as adults we are submerged in a thick, sluggish time soup. We long to strain out the clear essence of Now, to trap past/future in the colander. We search for ways, try various vehicles of distillation – drugs, meditation, chanting, sex, art, yoga, romance blah blah… spend our lives primarily focused on the desire to break through to the place of truth and beauty we once glimpsed as infants. Surely we yearn not for the dark womb, but for the pure light of present time just after emerging from it?
There is perhaps a false release that comes with old age, as memory slips and we slide into simpler senility. But do we ever again glimpse the innocent face of freedom we once knew? As we die, maybe, but while we live, how can we discard the accumulation of all our knowing? Failing faculties may give the appearance of data lost, but it is not lost, rather stored deep within the hard drive, infusing senility (I imagine) with a sense of rising panic as we lose and simultaneously drown in our vast, black sea of amassed experience.
Dreams. Ah, beloved blissful dreams. The preservers of our sanity... the insane 'theatre of the absurd', where the characters of our un- sub- and collective consciousness gather to play out fascinating, mysterious recreation dramas. And then are gone. Dream landscapes must surely be the stage of our soul (all that we are, have ever been, will always be), the location where we meet all the possibilities of our myriad and mirrored selves, and are utterly refreshed by the meeting.
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