Time Is Magic
Entry by: Olivia
8th January 2016
Time is magic
My daughter always says that there is a whole section missing in ‘Hobby Craft’, it’s the ‘buy your extra time here’ shelves.
As a child I remember there never being enough time to do everything that I wanted to do and that hasn’t really changed. My days, although long and full, don’t have enough time in them. My life, although long and full, doesn’t have enough time left in it.
Time has never dragged, there may have been the odd hour that went slowly, maybe when I was waiting for a lover to arrive and the hours of labour were interminable, but usually time speeds by as if by magic.
For me, time has meaning and purpose but for the residents in the care home it has lost its balance. When I visit they are disorientated in time and space. The day of the week is a fleeting concept and the hour of the day an unknown dimension. Their minds are an unfortunate scramble of time snippets, barely pieced together, the order lost.
My husband’s time is lost. It began so well. He had more time left than I. His 38 years to my 58, time had slipped. I planned his time without me but the plates of time shifted; we are running out of time now. ‘The tablets are working, that’s good, the tumour is shrinking’. But its only a matter of time until they stop working and then. And then your time will be up.
Time is a gift that we give to people, it’s yours to give and yours to withhold. It is unique. It slips through your fingers like sand and can’t be gathered nor replaced. You run out of it and you waste it.
Time on this earth is finite for everyone. Time is limited, our only restriction and our only freedom.
‘Do you remember the time when?’ ‘I don’t have time’, but some how you can both make time and mark time.
It is only when you come to see that it is finite that you want more. But you wish it away and want the end. We ‘can’t wait for’ and we forget to live in the moment and in the now. It is only when it is passing that you notice that it is going. We time watch; the days lengthen and shorten and we rail against the dying of the night.
We seek to extend time and to waste it with futile occupations. We squeeze more into everyday but get less out. We shorten sleep time to make more work time. Uselessly trying to cheat our bodies of their own internal time mechanisms.
We strive to deny our age, to deny the moments of time that we have spent on this earth.
When all is said and done, time marches on, independent, self regulating, eternal.
My daughter always says that there is a whole section missing in ‘Hobby Craft’, it’s the ‘buy your extra time here’ shelves.
As a child I remember there never being enough time to do everything that I wanted to do and that hasn’t really changed. My days, although long and full, don’t have enough time in them. My life, although long and full, doesn’t have enough time left in it.
Time has never dragged, there may have been the odd hour that went slowly, maybe when I was waiting for a lover to arrive and the hours of labour were interminable, but usually time speeds by as if by magic.
For me, time has meaning and purpose but for the residents in the care home it has lost its balance. When I visit they are disorientated in time and space. The day of the week is a fleeting concept and the hour of the day an unknown dimension. Their minds are an unfortunate scramble of time snippets, barely pieced together, the order lost.
My husband’s time is lost. It began so well. He had more time left than I. His 38 years to my 58, time had slipped. I planned his time without me but the plates of time shifted; we are running out of time now. ‘The tablets are working, that’s good, the tumour is shrinking’. But its only a matter of time until they stop working and then. And then your time will be up.
Time is a gift that we give to people, it’s yours to give and yours to withhold. It is unique. It slips through your fingers like sand and can’t be gathered nor replaced. You run out of it and you waste it.
Time on this earth is finite for everyone. Time is limited, our only restriction and our only freedom.
‘Do you remember the time when?’ ‘I don’t have time’, but some how you can both make time and mark time.
It is only when you come to see that it is finite that you want more. But you wish it away and want the end. We ‘can’t wait for’ and we forget to live in the moment and in the now. It is only when it is passing that you notice that it is going. We time watch; the days lengthen and shorten and we rail against the dying of the night.
We seek to extend time and to waste it with futile occupations. We squeeze more into everyday but get less out. We shorten sleep time to make more work time. Uselessly trying to cheat our bodies of their own internal time mechanisms.
We strive to deny our age, to deny the moments of time that we have spent on this earth.
When all is said and done, time marches on, independent, self regulating, eternal.
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