Sometimes in a day or a month happenings become totally unpredictable and out of control. I am thinking that control is only an abstract word in which we delude ourselves. We make schedules, preparations and honor calendars and clocks as if they were sacred markers containing seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years. Calendars which go back to the beginning of time as humanoids woke each day and marked the sun. All is illusion except that the sun, our nearest star, appears each day and then disappears in a flash of brilliant color sometimes.
And movement is instantaneous these days when we can push a key, or a button, hear and see anywhere in the world and those we love playing, laughing or crying. Robert Burns says in his poetry that the plans of mice and men "aftimes gang aglay". So true for this year. Ed and I are now taking doubtful pleasure in a seemingly unending redecorating project. Unseen forces have disrupted the desert dwelling in which we have habited, landscaped and loved. Of course everything that is man-made has a shelf life. And we as other living things, animals and plants, afterall must adapt to these shifting sands, hot and cold winds and climate changes.
So much more respect for the Romans and the ruins which continue to force a place in time. So we as they are connected in our passing. What enduring marks will we leave in these places where we walk and dwell. Food for thought occurs when the unexpected appears. Thank goodness I no longer keep a daytimer and every minute is as flexible as the icalendar which exist in a cloud and synces our days Or is that "sinks"?
Gram, you've blogged! I thought you forgot about lil' old Napitime. But I see you've also wrote a post in December. I miss you and hope you are doing well.
ReplyDeleteI love reading your deep thoughts. Always thinking about meaning. I suppose we can't control anything, but just sit back and hope to enjoy the ride...(but I'll still try to control it in my own way--ha!).