A Timeless Dilemma : Pt 1

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T I M E L E S S
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Time is the obsession of men alone. Not birds. Not dogs. Not Zebra. Not Anacondas. Only men buzz around flapping their arms and whinnying as though stirred by an unseen peril the same as a pack of beasts spooked by the presence of a snake. Time is "our" master and we are its slaves.
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Good morning to you all. I hope everyone has had a wonderful Christmas holiday. I hope all of you have enjoyed your family and gifts and all other things festive which are associate with this time of year. My holiday was fine as well I I do apologize for not sharing that "time" with you but you know how it gets. What about "time" though. Why are we (or am I) so obligated and indebted to its passage that we (or I) feel so burdened at the thought that we have wasted the smallest ounce of someones "time". What is "time" that it has become such an important essential element to our daily living. What is it that it can occupy our every waking thought and drive us blindly through the labyrinth of days towards an unplanned and untimely demise for which we are often seen racing the guy in the car next to us to get there first? Why do we so obediently leap to our fate at the hands of the faceless and merciless villain? Why does time preoccupy our (my) thoughts so?

Time. I talk about it in almost every single one of my posts (in some form or another). I sometimes travel backwards within it and I sometimes swim forward throughout. Time is a substance of heavy and cold fluidity. A substance without actual weight or measure yet it is the most valuable taxed commodity in the Universe. What exactly is time though. With no "present" form of its own we only measure its passing. We follow its trail of footsteps the same as forensic scientist only concerned that we were not the victims of it latest plotting ourself. It lacks smell. Its absent of color. It holds no weight. It has no speed on its own yet it is what we use to measure speed. Time is the obsession of men alone. Not birds. Not dogs. Not Zebra. Not Anacondas. Only men buzz around flapping their arms and whinnying as though stirred by an unseen peril the same as a pack of beasts spooked by the presence of a snake. Time is "our" master and we are its slaves. If Satan had a face, a name, and a purpose then time would have to be it. What death, destruction and demise has time brought to all men? What is its true purpose.

T I M E L E S S
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Life is filled with moments but between each lies the death of many seconds. We celebrate the macabre and enjoy the morbid burial of each and every minute now gone. Like some video game with guns and warfare we run through this existence with two blazing pistols "Killing time" as though we will be rewarded the high score. In the end we will get there first. In the end, however, we have missed so much.
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I respect time but I do not believe in it. I believe in the construct and purpose it has but not the way we are taught as children to respect it. To many (although now it becomes an enigma because I already refer to time as Satan) time is God. To those fully devout within their religious beliefs time is the true master of their actions. Christians attend church every Sunday as though fearful of Gods punishment upon their absence. Seventh Day Adventists take Sunday off because God said this is the day you should rest. Devout Muslims pray 5 times a day because they believe go wants this exact measure of devotion in order for them to continue to receive blessing. I, on the other hand, don't respect time on any level. In every religion regardless of principal and regardless of practice the element of time dominates the substance of worship, praise and devotion. How many of us have ever looked at our watch at a service we thought was going on "to long"? The preacher, pastor or whatever ordained person at the front of the church, mosque or other place of worship would be so "caught in the spirit" that he or she disobeys or ignores man's primary obsession with this foul being and in his or her ignorance a few (if not all) of their followers mentally and verbally crucify them for wasting their time. Its happened before and it will happen again.

Time is not a grand a beast as we all make it out to be though. I believe it is as fragile as a spiders web and as small as a pea. Like a spiders web it does have a way of making us become entangled and entrapped within its intricate construction. Only the spider can traverse its surface awaiting any and all who become wound up in its invisible strands. Only the spider, awaiting its prey, respects time for what it delivers towards their sustenance. Do you know any spiders? Those who sit at the other end of the pendulum. Those who set up and monitor the passage and missed acknowledgments of time. Your boss. Your mother. Your friends. Your dog. Those who skim along the surface as you struggle to wade through the murky depths without a boat. Those who assign the false value and the false measure to that without value or measure.

What is time?

Can I hold it?

Can I taste it?

Can I capture it in a jar and watch its glow become more dim with each night's passing? Would night even pass?

T I M E L E S S
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I use the moment to judge my happiness. I use the moment to tell me when the sunset shall return. The moment is more fulfilling. It lives. It breaths. We celebrate its arrival and not its death. Are we all death worshipers? Is that watch on our arm really a symbolic crypt to show the world how blindly devoted we are to sacrificing a being we have never seen nor heard? Can we and will we ever be free?
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Why do we need time? We would still be able to gain experience and count events without its presence. The ticking of a clock neither adds nor subtracts from the first time we had sex or the last time we hugged our children. As a matter of fact the incessant ticking annoys us to no end when we are enjoying "the moment" so The Moment must be time's antithesis. Life is filled with moments but between each lies the death of many seconds. We celebrate the macabre and enjoy the morbid burial of each and every minute now gone. Like some video game with guns and warfare we run through this existence with two blazing pistols "Killing time" as though we will be rewarded the high score. In the end we will get there first. In the end, however, we have missed so much.

I feel a twinge of guilt everytime I'm gone away for this long. I have many other thoughts that I have neglected to share with you and they rest within my soul until next "time" we meet. The burn of guilt is not for myself though but for those who are afraid to live outside the boundaries of time's prison. I use the moment to judge my happiness. I use the moment to tell me when the sunset shall return. The moment is more fulfilling. It lives. It breaths. We celebrate its arrival and not its death. Are we all death worshipers? Is that watch on our arm really a symbolic crypt to show the world how blindly devoted we are to a being we have never seen nor heard? Can we and will we ever be free? Think about that as you count the final seconds of this year. Think about that as confetti and streamer litter our homes and party halls. Think about how many babies are being born and how many men are dying. Think about it all and try to freeze the moment forever. Try to resist the inevitable pull to get it all over with. Just live and breathe in an infinite pause or self. If it doesn't work. If the capture and conviction of the fugitive known as time escapes your grasp then you can always try again next year.

You have plenty of time...

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