|I’ve been struggling with time lately. How to think about it, if it’s even worth thinking about. I’ve been struggling with what I want to do with my time too. I read a book this year and this little girl, the main character, was telling me how to be a time being. She has this grandmother Jeiko who lives on top of a mountain who tells her things about the world. Once her grandmother made her breathe in every moment of the day so she became aware of how many moments really exist, the time lost, the time spent.|
|The other day I was looking up through the trees at the sky and wondering why I seemed to be filling with dissonance lately and how strange that feels- as if the world were pulling me in two directions, maybe even three and I wasn’t quite ready to make the decision to go either way. So I touched the snow with my hand and let it float to the ground. And as the snow descended I realized that maybe that descent was the part of life that I was stuck in, like Alice when she falls into the rabbit hole and notices everything passing her on the way down. That awareness.|
|When I think about this year, I think that I’ve grown but maybe not so proportionally. That maybe I’ve learned a lot, like when I was on the Camino- I shared things with so many people and when it was time to say goodbye it was okay for them to leave because we were both leaving with parts of each other. Or when I was in Istanbul and Morocco and they showed me their cities with such openness. The hamam, getting scrubbed down by women laughing at my skinny arms. When I was dancing until six in the morning in Spain and walked home with shoes in my hand and a silly look on my face. Or when Casper told me to sit down on the sand and be quiet as he told me why I was special, that I was a weird quiet person and that was a good thing. So yes I’ve grown, Isa and I biking, man did I grow but I thought I could get rid of this restlessness. But that same struggle with time, with the dissonance pooling and spilling is still here, it’s building again. As if I am breathing in every moment and it’s filling me up.|
|It could be a good thing. Sometimes I use it to write and I’m always surprised by what my thoughts look like on a page. Sometimes it makes me sad.|
|Oh and the people I’ve met. How I miss them. The ones I met far away because sometimes I feel as though the people I came back to aren’t the same. Or they traveled too, but in a trajectory that only moves forward in this straight bold line when I was sprinting and jumping and falling and skipping down streets that sometimes lead me in circles. So I am in between again. In the unbelonging I guess you could say.|
|The unbelonging means so many things though. It means you are aware of everything and those around you can’t listen. It means you want to reach out and touch but your fingers curl as if hit by fire. The pause in a song that isn’t really a pause, the song continues, but when the song ends you want to be back in the pause even if that’s where the dissonance resides. The unbelonging is a place of utter awareness and sense of space. The space of time. The space of yourself.|
|So….Hi 2016. Help me to grow proportionally. I feel as though I have folded into myself again. I truly, wholeheartedly, ardently lived my life this year but tomorrow I must do it again in a different skin. I guess what I’m really saying is I’ve changed, maybe fractionally but I’m proud of that change. Tomorrow I’m going to have to change even more. The next day too. There will be days that I must do it alone and others won’t be so lonely.
I guess the struggle with time is, I’m never sure how to move within its boundary. By calling time, time I am already prescribing to walls, to boundaries, to borders. The struggle is time moves infinitely backward and forward from the very place my feet touch the ground. So maybe 2015 is also moving infinitely backward as I move infinitely forward and I can stretch my fingers infinitely to the side and upward and downward. This dissonance, the moments squandered, what old Jeiko says on top of the mountain are merely symptoms of feeling the infinity of the space we occupy, not the infinity of time because that does not exist. But the infinity of self. Of myself. Of the space I am.
May my and your 2016 be filled with in takes of breathe.