When Time Slips Away
The best moments in my life have been timeless. When I recall them, I do not think in terms of, "At 6:49pm, I laughed till my belly ached and then around 7:15pm I was serious again which ended that happy moment."
It just doesn't happen that way. Time steals joy and it pressures me to always be getting somewhere else.
In my cross-cultural communication course, I am learning about how some cultures are time-orieneted, and others are event-oriented. As I read, I was dismayed to find myself identifying with being time-oriented, yet within me I know that I yearn to be more event-oriented, because time-orientation is so draining. I rush to do things, to be different places, to get things done. How many times has putting aside the constraints and anxieties of time in order to be fully occupied with the person in front of me ever caused a major disaster? Maybe I were a little later than I'd planned on being for whatever was next, but in the grand scheme of things, is being late a world-shaking catastrophe?
I wonder about these things, because the anxiety I feel at being late for something or missing something can be overwhelming and actually cause me to miss what's right in front of me. I can think of numerous examples of my worrying away about being late for work or church has infected the enjoyment that could be had in the moment I was in.
I can also think of moments in which I've allowed time to slip away in importance and I've just been present. The best cello lessons have been those that go overtime because we get carried up in the music. The best mornings have been those during which I allow myself to wake up, get around, and get going organically. Mornings when I say, "School can wait, I'm going to bake," or when I take the time to wash the dishes, make breakfast for Sänna, or go on a walk.
Vacations are wonderful because vacations seem endless. We all know that the joy killer is the one who says, "Oh no, there's only 3 days left in vacation."
Worship, in its fullest, has always been timeless and has gone on for hours.
Love, in its fullest, has thrown around a basketball with Spanish-speaking children and hasn't worried about being the last one to run to the bus, because the hugs and calls for "Maryah" were more valuable than time.
Friendship, in its fullest, says that things can wait, I'm here with you right now.
Yes, there's purposes for keeping responsibilities and obligations. It's when I let those responsibilities and obligations take precedence over people that things go sour.
Last weekend was the annual barn dance to celebrate the summer solstice. It's an evening of timeless smiles and tunes, with clapping and swinging and joy. Everything is set aside as the beauty of where you are enraptures you and twirls you around so much that you can think of nothing else but that moment. It's not till later, looking back, that you realize you had lost the consciousness of time. Honestly, I need more of that. I need to be knocked unconscious to time more often. I need people that say, "Don't rush, don't spoil it. Let's be here." I need to stop and stare at the beauty around me, not the beauty that's to come. Just what's right with us right now. Because as Christians, we really never run out of time.
A quote from my favorite book, A Severe Mercy, puts it this way:
"We had spoken of ‘moments made eternity’, meaning what are called timeless moments, moments precisely without the pressure of time - moments that might be called, indeed, timeful moments. Of time-freemoments. And we have clearly understood that the pressure of time was our nearly inescapable awareness of an approaching terminus - the bell about to ring, the holiday about to end … . Life is pressured by death, the final terminus. When we speak of Now, we seem to mean the timeless: there is no duration. Aware of duration, of terminus, spoils Now.”
Moments without the pressure of time. That's what I want. That's what these photos capture. I am internally wired to be time-oriented, but it's nothing that a little less-worrying can't fix. So I end this with a challenge to myself, to be less time-oriented and to place loving people first.
It just doesn't happen that way. Time steals joy and it pressures me to always be getting somewhere else.
In my cross-cultural communication course, I am learning about how some cultures are time-orieneted, and others are event-oriented. As I read, I was dismayed to find myself identifying with being time-oriented, yet within me I know that I yearn to be more event-oriented, because time-orientation is so draining. I rush to do things, to be different places, to get things done. How many times has putting aside the constraints and anxieties of time in order to be fully occupied with the person in front of me ever caused a major disaster? Maybe I were a little later than I'd planned on being for whatever was next, but in the grand scheme of things, is being late a world-shaking catastrophe?
I wonder about these things, because the anxiety I feel at being late for something or missing something can be overwhelming and actually cause me to miss what's right in front of me. I can think of numerous examples of my worrying away about being late for work or church has infected the enjoyment that could be had in the moment I was in.
Vacations are wonderful because vacations seem endless. We all know that the joy killer is the one who says, "Oh no, there's only 3 days left in vacation."
Worship, in its fullest, has always been timeless and has gone on for hours.
Love, in its fullest, has thrown around a basketball with Spanish-speaking children and hasn't worried about being the last one to run to the bus, because the hugs and calls for "Maryah" were more valuable than time.
Friendship, in its fullest, says that things can wait, I'm here with you right now.
Last weekend was the annual barn dance to celebrate the summer solstice. It's an evening of timeless smiles and tunes, with clapping and swinging and joy. Everything is set aside as the beauty of where you are enraptures you and twirls you around so much that you can think of nothing else but that moment. It's not till later, looking back, that you realize you had lost the consciousness of time. Honestly, I need more of that. I need to be knocked unconscious to time more often. I need people that say, "Don't rush, don't spoil it. Let's be here." I need to stop and stare at the beauty around me, not the beauty that's to come. Just what's right with us right now. Because as Christians, we really never run out of time.
A quote from my favorite book, A Severe Mercy, puts it this way:
"We had spoken of ‘moments made eternity’, meaning what are called timeless moments, moments precisely without the pressure of time - moments that might be called, indeed, timeful moments. Of time-freemoments. And we have clearly understood that the pressure of time was our nearly inescapable awareness of an approaching terminus - the bell about to ring, the holiday about to end … . Life is pressured by death, the final terminus. When we speak of Now, we seem to mean the timeless: there is no duration. Aware of duration, of terminus, spoils Now.”
Moments without the pressure of time. That's what I want. That's what these photos capture. I am internally wired to be time-oriented, but it's nothing that a little less-worrying can't fix. So I end this with a challenge to myself, to be less time-oriented and to place loving people first.
Maryah - totally love this thought. It was really amazingly written. I am not always as gifted with words, so to read this written the way you did gave me a new, better way to access my own thoughts; a revelation, if you will. You gave me a revelation! Thanks!! :)
ReplyDeleteWhy thank you! I'm glad that I could assist you in your revelation. =)
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