This post card fascinates me, entrances me, captivates me. It was only a century and a few months late in arriving. On its back, in pencil, these words are written:
"With best wishes from your loving father in the year 1911."
Voices call to me from the past. Echoes from a thousand years ago still drift on the wind for me to hear. Written words from a century ago mysteriously find their way into my hands, somehow arrive and are visible before my eyes. "Do you remember me?" they demand, they beg, they simply wonder. Yes, I think I do. Yes, I really believe that I do. There is no time behind me or beyond me. I am time. All right. Enough jabbering. With apologies to Lord Krishna, or to whomever wrote the Bhagavad Gita, for being the dialectic opposite of your thought:
My apologies .... well, maybe .... sort of ....
What is time?
Where is time?
Who is time?
I have all the time in the world;
Nay, all the time in the universe,
For time is but an instant and,
Yet, an eternity.
My life is both
An instant,
An eternity,
Yet, it is neither, for my life is
But a dream,
And I never was nor ever will be,
For I am time, only a wisp of
Imagined memory beyond tomorrow.
9 comments:
what a lovely suite from Rachimaniof!!I has been looking for this play and now i found it at you blog.Thanx!
Time.i dont dont.we are only a little breath in the wind..Here today..gone tomorrow...
and still time goes slow sometimes for us living..while the earth is spinning fast around and around..whats out there?what what what...I have stoped concerning about what is or not is...i belive there is a great gift for us that is born to this universe..We are lucky and where we are born same too..i think nothing is out of the blue.It has a meaning.A secret.
Yesterday my mood was not good.And i found a book by my bedside called the art of happiness.A sentence there gave my great relief.It is all in my head isn it?what pain or happiness i feel is created by myself..and therefor i am responsible for my oun happiness.
If i have a big cause and want to go to court with it and i belive i can win..i get the best layer ever.And try to win it.But if the case is too big and i think this i can not win .i just forget about it.
about me and blogging.I can not do blogging just to do blogging.It is to much feelings for me.And the photoes to.every photo means something special.the silence.the warm dazzling summer brezze.the little aunt trying to survive or get food for his family..yes there is so much..
but however..i need to fill me up sometimes..that is like if you drink something good..a glass of fresh morning milk..or as you take a little hot shot of that Aquavitt heheh..you say..Ahhhhhh,,this was good for me.you undrestand??i will be around look at your sblogs..sometimes ones gets tired of looking at only oneself agree??and others do have much interesting stuff to share.
I missed you when you was gone.how is it possible?To miss to think to write to feel a person you have never seen?.
I have become quite addictibve to you..but most always remind myself of..you are here today..gone tomorrow..
well so is life.
But i did sleep very good this night.the clock was 9.00 when i wake up..god soo long a sleep?
And now i feel more comfortable..and will go ut in nature without cameras and have anice day with people i meet in the woods..i met a scæfer dog yestereday from the Millatery in the woods..soo nice a dog.I want a dog!I f a meet a man one day i will beg him to give me a puppy!
ok..we will see around Fram..whats your true name by the way??
Have a nice sunday and may your dreams be full of passion pleasure peace and happiness.
your friend in norway anita
And the postcard is most intersting too!!Very nice!!
Yes, it's really fascinating card. 1911.... Time? What is really time? I remember how I argued with my friend back in Lithuania about time. Does time really exist or we created it for our convenience. I am reading now a young Japanese writer Yoko Ogawa, The Housekeeper and the Professor. A brilliant math professor ( the main character in this book) has a very peculiar problem; he has only eighty minutes of short -term memory. He remembers things only for eighty minutes a day. What does time mean for him? You always make me think, Fram. And you always make me look for answers. That is why I am so absorbed by your writing.
And where is time? And who is time? An instant or eternity? I think we are time. Only we.
Another brilliant post, Fram. And Rachaminoff is wonderful, always is.
Have a very nice week, Fram. Many warm summer wishes to you from Utah.
Your comment is so long and has so many elements that it is rather overwhelming, Anita, so, rather than trying to address it all, I will mention only two things.
My name, on the sea of blogs, is Fram. I explained in a post long ago why I chose it. Ironically, in light of today's post, I have used "1911" as my internet name in the past, as well. Not for a long time, though.
I would wager a considerable amount of money my actual name never appears in a post here. Privacy is a treasure as valuable as gold, to my way of thinking, and I value mine.
You mentioned, or asked, if happiness "is all in my head, isn’t it?" Yes, but ....
Some people who claim they are happy (actually, most who make such a claim, I think) delude themselves. I have said many times that I believe happiness is a momentary thing. Everyone seeks his or her own "Garden of Eden" as a metaphorical concept. Some look for it as a physical place; some internalize and look for it within themselves. I look for it as a place with another person who dwells there -- the princess in the castle. For me, finding "Eve" has proven to be an elusive task, so I might simply have to settle for the castle.
So, take care, Anita .... it is time for me to disappear and to do some work ....
I cannot resist saying this, Kaya: The brilliant professor has a better memory than most.
So many people go through their days thinking about three or four things at the same time. Consequently, they often hear, but they do not listen. They walk (or run) in circles, failing to do good work or to complete all the tasks they set out to do. At the close of the day, they have forgotten many (maybe most) details about where they have been and what they have done. They have existed rather than lived.
Most people really are poor managers of their time. It could be we all are, at least for most of our lives. Educators today find it necessary to mandate sex education in schools. I think America would be better off if time management courses were offered instead.
So, yes, "only we" are time. The only moment is now. But, are we more than a dream? Is now real? Have we ever been? And, perhaps most importantly, when does "our" time end .... or does it? Or has it?
And, yeah-h-h-h-h .... those "old-time" Russian composers sure knew how to write music that would make women turn and look their way.
Maybe, "the time has come" to study music.
Rachmaninoff is timeless.
Our dreams are timeless and if we are nothing more then a dream, we are timeless.
What we call 'time' is only a series of events in our life which
have to be sorted somehow by hour, by day etc.
'Time' (for me) is a place of my memory where there are pieces of events sorted by intensity of the feelings in a certain moment.
But somebody here said it better:
'For I am time, only a wisp of
Imagined memory beyond tomorrow.'
Great words, Fram!
My compliments!
There are many ways to measure time. Here is another:
I have a tendency to identify even abstract concepts as "living entities." We measure time by revolutions of the earth around the sun, events in our lives (as you point out, Daliana), evolutionary epochs in the history of the earth, and all are valid forms of measurements. But, I have a tendency to also think of time as a spectral being who controls the destiny of the universe.
This path (to nowhere?) came into my mind when I began associating life and living with the manitous of the American Indians. Some tribes maintain that everything -- animate and inanimate -- has a Manitou = a spirit. This means not only a wolf has a Manitou, but a rock does, as well.
On occasion, I have written that the Manitou of Lake Superior "likes" me and protects me when I swim in it or canoe on it. I have a sense of safety, of being protected and being "at home" when I am in it. So, if a person such as I accepts this thought -- not necessarily as fact, but as a possibility -- it is logical to extend the Manitou concept to elements such as the Wind, a Fire, a Dream, an Echo, the sound of a crashing wave, a streak of Lightning and even to Time itself.
Going even further: Time lives + I live = I am time. In the least, part of it.
Oh, well, it is a thought. More importantly, it is a pleasure for me to exchange words with people who do not confine their imaginations and their questions to artificial boundaries or to the pronouncements of politicians, theologians or (Odin save us) of so-called celebrities. That means, I am glad you come here and write your thoughts here, Daliana.
I am very serious tonight, am I not?
Yes, you are serious, even when you are joking!
This 'time' and 'spirit' concept is so vast that we can discuss untill the end of time and we cannot clear anything!
But...I can tell you something I believe!
I am sure that all things and each one has a spirit.
I don't know from where but they have.
Maybe they take parts of the soul from whom invented them, I don't now!
Even my images or my drawings takes something from me and from the subject I use!
I don't know if it does exist a Heaven for T-shirts or for Patios or Flowers but they have something alive and protect us somehow!
Regards!
Congratulations, Wind. You figured me out in very short order. (I guess I am just an open book.)
Certainly, you are correct when you say the "time" and "spirit" concept is so vast it could not be discussed adequately, clarified and resolved even if carried on until the end of time. But, I can think of worse ways to "spend my time" and it seems to me to be an excellent way to learn about people both in an individual and a societal sense. Nothing is more fascinating than the individual mind, in my experience.
You are an American Indian, Wind. Well, at least you seem to agree with the Manitou concept in your own manner of variation. Some of this has evolved out of the creation of objects with one's own hands and the traditions of gift giving (e.g., I have painted this portrait, it is part of me, I am part of it, I give it to you.).
I probably should not say this, but my greatest curiosity is in regard to death. I do not seek it, but I think the reason I have no personal fear of it is because I am curious to learn what it is and what questions might be answered there.
I do not know if there is "a Heaven for t-shirts or for Patios or Flowers," either, and really do not care, but if there is not a teacher "on the other side" offering a class in "Answers to Every Question You Have Ever Had 101," I am going to be damn angry and raise hell. Bring your camera.
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