“Only through time, time is conquered.”
– T.S. Eliot
I live my life as if my time is limited. You can only do so many things, fit so many things, into a day, a month, a lifetime. Everything takes time.
I have no energy to spare on thoughts that pull me down. That’s time management.
The passage of time has turned my hair a charcoal gray, an ashen shadow that summons the threat of losing all these things I am meant to do – the creativity that hasn’t yet turned into expression – and the urgency of holding onto time with the people I love. Demanding a future. The right to be here, to cherish and adore and protect them. There’s a myth about independence. We really do need each other, even when we’re grown.
Fleeting moments. My past is filled with them. And I want to be here for all the rest of it – all those sparkling moments.
My yearning for transcendence comes, at least in part, from my sense that my time is limited. And the need to find a way to get beyond time while I’m here.