Not Bound by Time

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Not bound by time is a recurring theme these days. I have been hearing it on many occasions, in many different places. But, I do have to be on time to work if I want to stay employed. I do have to get to church by the time “The Doors, the Doors!” is proclaimed in order to partake of the sacraments. I have yet to experience chrismation so I watch others partake and wait for my sweet friend to share her bread with me! My doctor appointment would not have been as quick and pleasant today if I had been 30 minutes later, or is that a conditioned response on my part to make people happy and not upset the “apple cart?” And, why were we so stressed that traffic was creating a 30 minute delay to the family birthday party for the evening south of the city. Oh my, it was such a cluster f*^%! Time was not on our side and yet dinner went off without a hitch! It tasted wonderful!

Is time an illusion? Is time of the essence? Is there time in a bottle? Is there a time for everything under the sun spoken of in Ecclesiastes 3:1? A google search with this caption will render mention of the omnipresent meaning “present everywhere.” Beyond space and time would be other worldly and a place to be desired. The beginning and the end, but possibly defying a beginning and an end. There would be no need for a beginning nor an end. Endless popped up as did perpetual and ceaseless and immortal.

Now we enter into the mystical. What a wonderful place to observe. Such power but such love mixed together for our pleasure, and for our souls delight. How often do we sit in this place and look and see. It brings tears to my eyes to know that those who have traveled this life with us and no longer walk as we do in a physical body, may see us and know that we can be comforted by a change in our perception of time. If we could see as they do. If we could feel the love they feel as they return to source. If we could slow the pace or speed up the pace, yet know the love that extends past time, beyond our finite, yet inside all space.

Consider this picture of the sailboat in the sunset. It shows earthly time but is it really bound by time? It alludes to the sun setting  which denotes time. The sail direction shows how it takes up space, but it could be any day. It is not bound. It shows movement by the wind. Could we too drift with the wind? Could we be moved in the water of life by a sunset or energized by a sunrise? Could we simply sit on the water and allow the waves and the time, weather and wind? Could we sway to life rocking us to sleep with its up down motion? Could we enjoy the high sun of noon or the still darkness of midnight? Could we be no mind? No body? No form? No preference? Not bound by time?

Dr. Suess summed up the human heart of being time bound.

“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here                  before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”

Have you ever had a project in the garage that you wanted to finish but you had to cut off because of a scheduled appointment and the family was waiting? Have you ever had an art project started and the enjoyment of it interrupted by the bell to move to the next class you hated? Then there is the vacation halted by having to go back to work. Playing with the grand kids but knowing you will be lynched if you do not break away to feed the crew. And there is the lover who awakens every fiber of muscle and tissue and sense of electricity your system can fathom to wake up days, months, years later and never see their face in this physical realm on this side of time?

We seek to not be bound by time. Will we experience it in this life? Maybe when we drift on the sailboat, or watch the sunrise over the mountains, or dive along the majestic coast, or witness the sunset from the shoreline, or hear that one song that brings tears even when the day has been so carefree.

If one gift could be given to all mankind it would be within all we know as time that we have the ability to experience not being bound by it. Not bound by time. Are we or are we not?

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Neither Spring, Nor Fall

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World English Bible
“For thus says Yahweh, ‘You will not see wind, neither will you see rain; yet that valley shall be filled with water, and you will drink,”

I love this pic. Evening, water, no leaves except those which hang on until the winds force them to go. It is an in between state of being which we find ourselves in for another cycle. The lake gives promise to a water supply so there is hope, or a promise of thirst being quenched. Like the lights in the distance our minds seek a guiding light, a whisper of direction in the distance leading us closer to a drink. What shall we drink?

Will we drink from scarcity? Will we drink from horror? Will we drink from never being enough, or will we see the blessings of the day? Will we experience being enough when the day goes quickly because we’ve been of service? Will we see our yearning for more sleep is really gratitude for experiences which show us contrast? Will we be thankful for the moments when we were baptised by relationships good and bad, big and little. Those for which we can not take an ounce of credit, yet accept that we for a brief moment allowed others to flow through our lives.

Were we present? In that moment we become the drink to quench the moral thirst. We become life. We live. We too drink, even between spring and fall. During this time may our valley’s fill with that which will allow us to be productive, yet honor spirit within when we do not appear to have any physical manifestation of having been helpful at all.

Peace.

Do you remember?

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What do you remember from the earliest days? I remember being sad for my big brother because the dog died. I don’t remember the dog, but I was so sad for my bro because he was crying and hurting over this loss. I was little kindergartener leaning against the door frame. Another memory was when my younger brother was burned badly from the grease in an electric frying pan he pulled off the counter. I don’t remember that part of the trauma, but I remember that I was waiting in a car late that evening, watching and looking up to the upper levels of the hospital windows wishing to see my family. Then I remember seeing someone female I thought using an ironing board to iron. Okay, so was I  really at the hospital? I don’t know that either, but my mind always remembers it around that incident. There are other memories, but earlier ones are more sketchy than that.

What about school age? Here is one for you. My dad was a pipeline welder and we moved with the pipeline, so I did not go to kindergarten because of these moves and such was the time. I moved 41 times before my 7th grade year.  So, one time, when we had settled back next door to my granny’s house for the cold weather, I went to my “first” day of 1st grade. The other students had been there for days, but this was my “first day” ever in an institution of education. The youngsters were seated and quiet as they used pencils to mark papers. As I sat down I looked around for some visual clues as to what I was supposed to do. The teacher, Mrs. Worsham, walked by and hit my hand with a fly swatter and told me to “quit cheating.” Again, I repeat, this was in first grade, on my first day of school ever in my short life, yelled at and hit and told to quit cheating which I did not even know how to do. Thus my introduction to education.

Jump forward about 50 years. Now, I rarely look back unless my spirit taps me on the shoulder and prompts me to remember. This month I was tapped…on the shoulder and pointed in the direction to pay attention. These are not easy tasks but I try to obey. This one knocked the wind out of me. As happens on FB from time to time, not often, but once in a while I am tagged in a pic from long ago. The pics that surfaced were from a summer Bible campaign in the NE with select college students from surrounding sister colleges. I had not thought of these people for some time. I experienced lasting lessons from a couple of the trips I had taken along the NE coast which shaped who I am today. Yet, many of the people and faces I had forgotten. As I looked through the memories chronicled there I started remembering. Some names came to me, and I connected soulfully again to those whose smiles were infectious. I couldn’t resist the pull to reach out to those easy to locate and the ones who made me laugh. So far I have only heard back from one. That is fine. I obeyed the tap. The outcome is not mine. The action to do as I was led is. I look forward to the day some of the timing for this makes sense. But if that day does not happen on this side I will continue to act on the prompts. I believe that I am here to do that.

What do we do with memory, some great, some good, some we long to never be prompted to revisit? I personally live in the moment, but when the brain waves spark with memory I look to it to give thanks even in the unknown surrounding it. I lean into the stimuli behind it, accept the rush of sentiment, and try to process the emotions escorting it. I’m not sure if the frequency of these recurring memories are a part of the aging process or because they enlighten and move me to more compassion towards others. I would like to think there is a reason, but, again, I’m not privy to the scope of that particular info from the spiritual realm.

Today I will give thanks for the flood of beautiful memories, faces, places, and learning that took place for my good. I wish I could “replay” and “redo” as in a computer game. I would be more kind and understanding of all the players including myself. I would say “Thank you” more, and “God bless you!” I would tell people they were fine right where they were and perfect in God’s eyes. I would tell them forgiveness is there’s to accept. I would see them as a first love sees with wonder and awe into the depths of the precious soul directly across from them. The old photo’s captured exact moments that reminded me to cherish the present much more. Thus, maybe, the tap on my shoulder to revisit the pics as I did and see then, where I offered people and those times my service, I now will do so with much more awe and adoration for the moment at hand. I do wish I had told those across from me then how special they were. But, there are no “do-overs.” There are, however, new opportunities in the present to show more love for those who sit across from me.

Memories serve us even if we do not revisit them much. They will guide us to be better if we allow them. What do you remember? I remembered love so I end with this.

1 Corinthians 13:13

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

 

 

 

Sacred Spaces

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Sacred is the space where people go to observe the element bigger than themselves. The water, wind, and air at the lake where I walk seem to know. This is sacred ground. The body of water at our lake cleanses the heart of the city. The air over it provides the playground for the birds and fowl here. I’ve seen many of those birds on the sidelines returning to the ground. It is the circle of life. Appreciation for this species is given as I pass by each bird that has passed. The wind sends the cotton wood seeds scooting across the ground and water. The sailboats drift by giving ripples as cause and effect to the movement of particles.

People pass by either on boat or fishing along the rocks ready to receive the flesh of the fish as their right to energy from the sun. They jog and ride and skate and board, and sail or wind sail. They ride waves attached to kites. They ride carts powered by the wind in the kite sail over the ground. All around the earth gives and gives and gives. Some walk dogs, others feed the cats, and babies ride as parents push strollers so they can jog.

The trees offer shade. The water offers a cool breeze. The shine of the ripples allude to energy as does the wind whipping through the tree leaves. Ducks and geese parade on the edges of the water. Some camp out in the park near the overloaded dumpsters. People food provides the goods they have become accustomed to in this place. The wind can be heard and seen flowing through the flag at the Stars and Stripes park. Thirteen to Eighteen miles per hour is the velocity of the wind and blowing mostly from the south. On the days that it shifts from the north a slight jacket remains a good friend. The colors paint exquisite backdrops. Deep blues to shades of grey, gold to deep green and tree bark, sticks, dirt and gravel all give a distinctive aroma. On the times I have walked while it is sprinkling salt and pepper spray, nature offers a baptism of water washing away the dirt and grime and offering back to God its very best…a Sacred Space.

Sailboats or Friends

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The lake where I walk often is full of sailboats. I love them. I love this place. I decided today it was our city’s “playground.” All people come here to hang out with loved ones or alone to exercise and be outdoors. You will see a diverse group of people in size, nationality, and gender. There are bike paths, walking and jogging paths. These are clearly marked, although the markers are a bit high and the casual pedestrian pays no attention to them until a “newbie” gets barked at by the less patient bike enthusiast. There are skaters, inline and longboards. There are recumbent bikes. There are child sized trikes. There are whole families walking, jogging, biking, and fishing. Fishing was the sport for today since the wind was up to 13-14 mph, but the skies were completely clear and the sun was on blast.

A while back I remember I never thought I could belong in a yacht club. I still don’t know a whole lot about it, but having frequented the boat docks and the lake for many years, I now have a sense of belonging. Maybe it’s my age, but I find the thought of being a member is no longer a foreign object. It seems a next step to this journey of life.

There are particularly two rigs that I have seen for years and would want to purchase if ever they were up for sale. The first one is named the “Chili Pepper” and the second much bigger vessel is called “Barefoot.” When my sons were small they would say they were going “Barefootin'”, so it is with a mom’s heartstrings that I have an affinity for the large vessel. I love that “CP” has red paint stripes to match its name. I also have to admit to a great friend who had a lovely dog named Chilly. Again, the heartstrings move me.

I love that “BF” has a cool blue and green tint to its rigging that suggests a nice walk through the park in the cool spring grass with no shoes. I have walked barefoot along the fence row where BF is stored. I feel as if they both are kindred spirits. Even though they are on opposite sides of the lake, I visit them respectfully as if they are friends. That is what any decent patron of such a sacred space would do. I look forward to seeing they are still there, and I smile as I pass either on my bike or walking past in my five fingers or barefoot. They seem to always greet me with the howl of the cables vibrating in the wind. It is music to my ears.

On today’s visit I introduced my friend BF to the Walk Talk Time client who walked and talked for 5 miles with me. It was great to share the ships majestic music with my friend on such a beautiful sun filled day. As we walked past I thought I heard, “Later.” To which I responded, “Gator!”