The Tyranny of Time
Time is a tyrant
There is always time.
The tyrant time says there is plenty of it for all of us. The sun agrees she will continue to shine and the moon, a rather fickle one, says she will glow in her own time.
How humans have recorded time from Stonehenge to sun dials is anyone’s guess.
Today marks the Persian New Year or Nowruz as well as the vernal equinox. Equal light to equal dark. I, however, have been late to two meetings today.
If we can measure time, why are we always looking for it like the lost sneaker on Route 66 when out for a drive.
I jested today that 2020 was the year time stopped. Have you ever felt that? Time stopping. I remember freaking out when I felt trapped in some kind of wormhole waiting for the sun to break the horizon. Turns out time doesn’t appreciate being watched quite so closely. Can’t blame her I suppose. Though Cher can certainly turn back time like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
I’m silly today in the face of weighty matters in my grey matter like war zones and atom bombs. Don’t mind me. Just passing time.
Bad jokes welcome here.
I remember owning a Harley watch when I was 19. I collected watches, actually. It was my brief, very brief, Harley life when I lived with my Aunt Joy and my cousin, Shelley. Both passed from cancer.
There always seemed to be plenty of time. Plenty to waste, anyway. What is time to a teenager? Just something Father Time tries to enforce. Too paternal? Maybe so.
These days I calculate time in my head with family and friends all in different time zones. Me to the East like the holy queer star, my cousins hovering centrally over the Midwest, and Colleen and Mihee counting stars on the West coast. To be continued…