Or am I? Home from a week spent with my youngest daughter and her family, I’m battling a head cold, but am feeling strangely refreshed in a manner that will take me some time to reckon. How much time? Ah, here’s the distinction; not to get too metaphysical, but if instead of coming home I found myself eighty to one hundred years in the past, would time’s passage carry the same weight as what I experienced in the last seven days?
Dude, that’s a bit abstract for a hello I’m home post, but time is short (or is it?), and the sniffles have rendered me useless for much beyond sitting in front of my computer. Thank goodness I didn’t feel this debilitated while hanging out with The Burrito; he would have ran circles around my sorry behind.
Actually, I gave him plenty to ponder, introducing hexies to his world. His world is one relatively free from time’s rules, perhaps his approach to time influenced my perception. Or I was simply too busy to ponder a corporeal acceptance of hours, minutes, and seconds. That certainly is true, but here I am back in Silicon Valley, and instead of feeling the usual displacement, readjustment seems wholly altered.
I was here, I left, I’ve come back, the resonance of time missed totally absent. There was no pining to come home, I was completely rooted right where I was, living as if the next day wasn’t a consideration. Occasionally I have noticed this sensation, but never has it been so pervasive. And now, not quite an entire day back, I am still wrapped in a bubble of being here right NOW. It’s a funny feeling to note, somewhat tied into writing; plotting a book set in another galaxy requires a fair knowledge of how that planet works (or more rightly how it contrasts from ours). What if past, present, and future wasn’t a part of the lexicon, what if….
What if I had fallen back into 1918 instead of 2018, my smart phone not worth more than a paperweight, notifications only a black screen. I could still quilt and write, but other than an old school calendar, how would I measure time? Sunrises and sunsets would matter, but to-do lists could fall by the wayside. Not that I was around back then, but I imagine folks were kept busy enough, sort of how I felt with a three-year-old under my watch, ha ha. Did people in those days feel that time was squeezed, was there the sense we now seem to have of not enough time?
Maybe I was heavily influenced by my grandson’s grasp of time; falling under that spell, I surrendered to a childlike state which stripped away the usual boundaries. While my activities are usually framed by a Spirit-led awareness, equally I am often hampered by a ticking clock. Yet, if that caveat was eliminated, and granted, it’s an enormous stipulation, how much more might I accomplish? I don’t merely mean items crossed off a list, books written, or quilts sewn. Where the ethereal and corporeal zones meet seems to lessen time’s importance, or how strongly I am drawn to heed that ticking. Not that I want to be forgetful or lazy, but I wish to embrace as fully as I can where I am RIGHT NOW.
As a fairly organized person, I reveled not only in my grandson’s joys, but in how uncomplicated were those thrills. While fully embracing my responsibilities, I wish to root myself deeply in the here and now, which currently means trying to wrap up this post so it makes sense. Maybe I’m blowing a lot of hot air, but I can’t dismiss what I felt over the last several days, how I want to incorporate that into this day, as well as into a novel. I certainly didn’t feel this way five years ago when pondering Haunted, perhaps that’s why it had to wait for now. If nothing else, I’ve taken several key steps in a journey that continues to surprise as well as delight. Last week I’ve might have closed this entry by saying, “And I can’t wait to see what happens next!” Today I’m content with inhaling deeply, resting in the quiet bliss that comes merely by taking another blessed breath.