Maybe it’s because I never had diaries to write in. Maybe that’s why I can’t choose the right words now. I love to talk. My elementary school teachers would never believe it if they heard. I’m like a tap that’s been left running once I start. But there’s nothing much I can tell you.
The Flow of Time
When I think of time, I think about a flow of water spilling from the future to the past, where the present is just that narrow meeting point of an hourglass. The present doesn’t exist. And I, following that flow, am already at the bottom of the pool, clinging to what passed.
There’s this image that came to my mind a few days ago at one of the late-night talks I often have with my best friend (right before we have to go to bed because that’s the best time to pour your soul out) about all of the past selves that I can’t forgive, want to forget and can’t cut ties with, so I’m dragging all those corpses of my past selves behind me. I’m roaming this Earth looking for a place to find peace, a resting place for them.
I Love My Lucky Stars!
And I’ve been blessed. On my way down, when my body is rushing for the bottom like an anchor, I’m looking up, and every time, without a fault, I see a sky full of light. Yes, even with my poor vision. I see the stars reaching for me, pinching my gaze to never lose sight of them. My lucky stars! The light of their kind words, the patience to listen, warm hugs, and comfort is the only lighthouse I need. I know how to reach the shore. I am blessed.
In water, I feel safe. It’s a return. I’m not afraid of the water. But, my flirting with it can conventionally be perceived otherwise. The depths to which I’ll go, maybe that scares people. That’s why they stand guard like that.
There’s this dialogue or something I saw online a while back that I can’t remember how it goes because I see in pictures, not words, so I can’t memorize quotes, but anyway, it goes to the sentiment (and what I’m trying to say is) that I know they’re not there because they have to be. I’m minimalizing their kindness.
They’re there because I actually have love in my life. I just sometimes forget it. Ever since I became aware of my forgetfulness, I want to scream my gratitude to them. Thank you for loving me! I have love in my life, and that’s why I know I’ll be okay.
Although I have experienced many disappointments in my quest to love and be loved, I still believe in the transformative power of love. Disappointment has not led me to close my heart. However, the more I talk with people around me I find disappointment to be widespread and it does lead many folks to feel profoundly cynical about [it]. A lot of people simply think we make too much of [it]. Our culture may make much of love as compelling fantasy or myth, but it does not make much of the art of loving. Our disappointment about [it] is directed at romantic [one]. We fail at romantic love when we have not learned the art of loving. It’s as simple as that.
All About Love by bell hooks
Great post. I love the way you described time because I see it similarly. And “All About Love” sounds like a fascinating book.
Thank you for stopping by to read!
My pleasure!