“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. I don’t want to waste a minute on what I HAVE to do – I want to spend it all on what I WANT to do. 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.
Fleeting moments. My past is filled with them. My daughter turns 18 next week. And I want to be here for all the rest of it – all those sparkling moments. There’s a myth about independence. We really do need each other, even when we’re grown. I want to be here, for her. And for Charles. Just to be with him. For no other reason than that simple comfort. And the knowing that I am that for him. Without me, he has no anchor.
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.