Saturday, July 2, 2011

TIME & Finding Your Way Back

Sister Dearest...

Last week, 3 years ago, my world... my vision of life became very different.

All auspicious moments can change the trajectory of a life, but there is something about death - a death of a sister, for example... that kind of a loss can change even the things you are not aware of: you check your watch or your cell for the time and then... time...

Time is no longer the same - minutes, seconds stretch out into interminable leaded weights of existence.  Each moment prods along - you can practically sit on them - take a bathroom break, check your credit, paint your nails and then return to whatever you were doing only to find that 1/2 a minute had passed! Each moment so heavy, so solitary.  Time becomes almost visceral - something to wade through it.

But let me clarify, this is not that romantic, must-remember-every-moment kind of time - this is the I-must-break-it-down-to-be-able-to-handle-the-onslaught-of-the-most-terrifying-things-in-a-single-moment sort of slowing down of time.  These memories, you never ever forget.  The wonderful little book: Einstein's Dreams, by Alan Lightman, does a phenomenal job at illustrating different versions of time - the slower-than-molasses version I am talking about is described perfectly, there.


Jacquie 5 months prior (and other sister, Joan)
My youngest sister, Jacquie's breast cancer had returned, however it had metastasized into her lungs, amongst other areas of her body.  Jacquie went through the Great Change 3 years ago, last week, June 22nd, at 9:15 in the morning - it was a Sunday.  It was a beautiful, beautiful morning.

You understand the "I" is not you, the ego, who is adjusting the shifts in time - there is no control here.  The body's intelligence system is its own instrument for encompassing the most incomprehensible on the quantum level.  It adjusts the speed of life to allow you time to be wholly present.  However, I think it has slowed me down in so phenomenal a way, I am hard pressed to return to normal capability - I simply can't keep up and frankly, there is nothing to keep up with.  There is no place worth being in any hurry that has any true currency or value in it - not anymore.   My grounding shifted, is still shifting.  Things, people whirl around me - so much importance, time is money, running late, running scared, got to show up, this to do, that to do, so much to do, sorry, can't stop...

So, I am quiet, still, and lost at the same time. If I don't know where I am going, I stand still and wait.  It is a nothing place... I've been here a long time.

There are times, moments, really, I can keep up for a bit - but never for too long.  Everyone seems to know what they are doing, where they are going or, at least, know they need to be going somewhere. That loss, my sister's death kicked me off my road - still mapless, I am finding my way by what best works in a medium like water, well, more like jello, mud, really - sound.  Like the blind, I both judge and define my space through the reflection (versus deflection) of sound.  I talk and listen to see who responds. No response, no ability to define - my terrain monochromatic, what forms are there may be hard to distinguish, much like a desert or the stark bleakness of the Antarctic.  So, everything comes at me in bits with lots of nothing in-between.  Time moves almost imperceptibly, or so it feels.

When someone, some thing responds, when coordinating vibration shows up, sound is reflected back and like sonar, I can begin to map my nearly colorless surroundings. Suddenly, there are forms I can "see" or rather feel - suddenly, I am not alone.  Here's walking with a purpose or, at least, walking in a direction, but now with a primer to continue, with some assurance.  THIS is something!


The beginning of my 1st post is a quote I took from a little known or, little remembered TV show called Millennium (late 1990's).  I seem to keep referring to the beginning of that quote: "We Are Meant To be Here..."  - it is perfect in that it always seems to find relevance in my interior questions made public.  So, if the quote is true and we are meant to be here, now, how have you been able to find your way back?  What natural instincts or tools, or other support systems do you have at your disposal to help you when you are in the "thick of things"?  What special event in your life has triggered the calling of this tool into its power?




What is your story?

2 comments:

ZHENYA ZHURAVLYOVA said...

INTERESTING BLOG!

veevee v said...

I don't know why I just discovered your blog, but I'm glad I did. So few people like to discuss "deeper" things like loss and death and letting go. I have had many close family members and friends pass away in my lifetime, most recently my father and I always think of death as just a transition to a different space -- a point when our paths diverge for just a short while until they converge at some other point in the unknown future.

One of my most favorite quotes is from the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull: "...Overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don't you think that we might see each other once or twice?”

veronika
www.slyandveronika.com

PS: why didn't we talk more when we were living/working at the same place?!