Skip to main content

Let's do the time warp...

There is nothing that fosters belief in the illusion of time more than taking a 15-hour road trip with children. It becomes all about counting, measuring, gauging.

Distance traveled is the most obvious to keep tabs on, then gas in the tank, minutes between 'are we there yets?' hungry tummies, parch-ed-ness, rest stops, endless stretches of road work, small stretches of no road work, drivers who prefer the passing lane, big trucks, day turning into night, smiles turning upside down, and then temporarily flatlining thanks to the technology that turns the radio into a story teller, the back seat into a movie theatre, and at moments the entire car into a concert stage.

There is nothing that disorients you more than arriving in the city you grew up in, that has been so overdeveloped and refaced that you can barely recognize it--and yet, it is still missing that je ne sais quoi.

There is nothing that helps you feel the passing of time more than sitting in your childhood bedroom, now a guest room--having long been emptied out of any sign of you, wall-paper discarded (thank god), new color pallet and accessories chosen to result in more universal appeal. Yet, even as you sit within, feeling sure the room must have shrunk, you are caught between who you were, once upon a time, and who you are now-- not quite able to reconcile the two, and perhaps a little thankful for that.

Yes, time passing, distances traveled, the mixture of the old with the new--all can hold you against your will a captive audience to the illusion, keeping you forever in the littleness of searching for its markers, its sign posts; comparing and contrasting, searching for meaning in the face-value--and perhaps most prevalently, for the elusive sense of belonging in a universe where the constant is change.

I am reminded of a dream I once had when I went to a friend's house only to find that new owners had moved in, and that my friend was long gone. I walked away from the nice strangers in her house attempting to put on my jacket, but it wouldn't fit. I struggled with it until I realized that it was sized for a five-year old. I wandered unable to recognize where I was, getting the feeling that I was a hundred years too late. Depending on perception this could be construed a bad dream--or a good one--think about the freedom! (I'll tell you for me the dream was stressful).

In another dream I was bombarded with images of an older woman I took to be me in my golden years. I shifted in an agitated state between anxiety and awe, until all of the sudden I felt myself declare I am not my body! At that, my dream-self shot up into the ceiling and found myself in a sort of belfry with metal scaffolding all over, which I could totally fly through. Yeah, it was awesome.

Thank goodness for these moments of reprieve, if only in our dreams, from being a dense form at the mercy of linear time and thinking, from the forces of gravity holding us down, and all of our conditioned thoughts about all of it.

I'm starting to have much more reverence for the four elements which do as they please!

Tonight I lift my eyes into the night sky, moving outside of time, to a place far enough away that it feels impossible to measure or gauge anything. I let its vastness connect my experience with all across time, who have ever used the constellations to guide them on their journeys, or to simply inspire in them rich stories, to those who have ever noticed a loving companion in the moon following them.

Then I inhale and exhale and feel the timelessness in that, connecting all of my own experience to itself within the rise and fall of the breath, that has never ceased to be--and I am still.


  1. Yay! You made it...what a gift it is to read your words, words that connect us even when there is 15 hours of road space in between.

    Savor your time, dear friend.


  2. Pure poetry! I love the immediacy of your stories and dreams. I am right there with you.

  3. So glad you are here and took that 15 hour road trip!!!!!!!!

    You brave and amazing woman!!


Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, mag


Photo by Ben Herbert on I’m standing on a cliff overlooking the water’s edge. The sky is present, hanging there in its vastness, holding this moment with symphonic strains of gray and electric buzz. Watching, suspended, sensing. I see to both sides of me vast white cliffs carved out by relentless grasping of the ocean extending down the coastline. The earth where I am standing up above gives just the right yield and welcome, with its soft grass and dainty yellow flowers, falsely giving the impression of delicacy, when anyone can see that they are hardy to withstand the harshness of forces here. There is an undeniable tightness of gravity here, pinning me down, tugging at me, slowing down my step. I feel as if this force could just sweep me away with the littlest of a flick, like an ant off the table. It screams danger while it beckons. My life had been recently taking on new grander design dimensions when this place and I met. Dating a new man, after being a singl

I want to remind me...

My thoughts drift back to when I was a child. I had a little toy kitchen sink and stove, no nouveau riche set, à la pottery barn, but very basic and snap together. It was set up in the unfinished basement on top of orange Muppet shag rugs that covered some of the cold concrete. There was a giant TV that looked like it had been built in a giant dresser. One top of its console lifted to play vinyl records and the other to play LP’s. Look it up. My kitchen was set up in the corner by the window well, where I could see cobwebs and spiders filtering the outside light shining through. I don’t remember playing much as a kid, but I do remember cleaning up the toys stored in giant Tang cans down there--organizing and reorganizing them at my mom's bidding, to rest the perfectly sorted toys in glowing metallic green cylinders, on pastel yellow metal shelves, the quiet yellow that sort of softened the Muppet rug domination, but added a utilitarian feel to the unfinished basement. I shoul