Monthly Archives: February 2022

Flowing Like a River

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“Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” 

Henry Van Dyke

Last December, I received two gorgeous calendars as Christmas gifts. I’m sure that each was chosen primarily for the stunningly beautiful artwork as well as for their practicality and function. I generally use the calendar on my laptop or my phone, but holding a paper calendar is an experience not equaled by a glowing screen. For in addition to the colorful prints and the monthly grid of empty squares, you literally hold in your hands the promise and potentiality of another trip around the sun…three hundred sixty-five days of possibilities. A pretty wonderful gift, I’d say. I am confident that fewer calendars are ahead of me than behind me, so I think a lot about how I’ll fill those empty squares.

The February page reminds me that my mom’s birthday is fast approaching. One of my childhood friends shared her birthdate with my mom. “Gee,” Fran exclaimed on one of those birthdays years ago. “We’re getting old. I mean, we’re pushing thirty!” That year, my mother was precisely twice her age. Mom was forty-two years, and Fran…and I… were merely twenty-one. With Fran’s mathematical logic, I suppose we are both pushing eighty this year! How quickly a lifetime has passed.

Time, flowing like a river.
Time, beckoning me.
Who knows when we shall meet again, if ever.
But time keeps flowing like a river into the sea.
-Alan Parson’s Project, Time
Flowing Like a River
Near Pitlochry, Scotland 2021

For more than two years, our lives have been ruled in one way or another by Covid-19. While the memories of the terrible isolation and loneliness I experienced during the lock-down and waiting for the vaccine are fading, I’m still wearing a mask in public and avoiding being too close to others. I also weigh the risks and benefits of activities I once took for granted. Now, for example, I consider whether the hoops of fire through which I must jump are worth the reward of travel…one of my favorite activities. Like everyone, I have a finite number of trips and adventures left on my calendar, but not knowing how many pages are left increases my desire to fill each square with meaning. At times I have wanted to whine and cry about what Covid has stolen from me, but as I grieve my losses, I know that the entire planet is filled with people who have sacrificed so much more than I. Of course, I empathize with their loss, but that doesn’t negate mine. It’s painful.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.”So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” 

― J.R.R.TOLKIEN, THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING
River Dochart Just Beyond the Falls
Killin, Scotland 2021

I’ve been searching for the word that best describes my Covid experience…two opposing ideas that both are seemingly true. I’m not sure if ‘paradox‘ is that word, but it comes close. Covid was and remains a callous, nondiscriminating thief of time. The list of treasures stolen is long, universal, and personal. (Universally personal…an ‘oxymoron.’ That one I know.) Graduations, weddings, even funerals became solitary events, if they occurred at all. Trips, plays, ball games, and family gatherings were put on hold or canceled outright. Connections with friends…old and new…even worship services were relegated to Zoom or Facetime. The precious time that we lost can never be regained. 

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
-Jim Croce, Time in a Bottle

Yes, Covid was a robber that took that which was most precious…bits and pieces of our lives. On the other hand…this marauder left behind unexpected blessings. The virus grabbed cherished time with one hand and bestowed the gift of time with the other. Paradox?

We had quiet time to think, read, write, and simply rest in isolation. Without other obligations and distractions, family Zoom gatherings became a weekly highlight enabling us to empathize, support, laugh, and connect from across the country. With worship services on Zoom, Facebook, or Youtube, we could attend when and wherever we chose. On the second Easter of Covid, I attended a United Methodist service in South Carolina, my local Unitarian Universalist Fellowship gathering in Michigan, the service in Montpelier, Vermont, and at the UU Meeting House in Provincetown. Later in the day, when a friend on Facebook suggested I check out the message from her church in Pennsylvania, I fast-forwarded to the sermon. I’m not especially religious, but…I had the time and absolutely nothing else on my calendar. The gift of time… enjoyed with a handful of jelly beans.

Sylvan Solace on the Chippewa River
Fall 2021
"Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' Into the future"
-Steve Miller Band Fly Like an Eagle

As the Covid situation morphs yet again into what seems like a more manageable and less devastating phase, I…like many, many others, am beginning to think about how I can add plans to those calendar pages. I’ve purchased airline tickets, booked a Christmas river cruise, selected plays I’m hoping to see, and registered for the Arts Retreat on Star Island. Will all of those adventures come to fruition? Who knows, but I’m moving forward in faith that they will.

“Do not wait: the time will never be ‘just right’. Start where you stand, and work whatever tools you may have at your command and better tools will be found as you go along.”

― Napoleon Hill
Mill Pond Park, Mt Pleasant, MI
August 2021

I remember one of my teachers trying to explain the concept of time and our perception of it. “A minute with your sweetheart goes by in a flash, while a minute on a hot stove is unbearable.” It feels as though time is picking up the pace while I’m slowing down.

The clock is ticking, and I’m crossing off boxes on my calendars at an alarming rate. With each passing day, I am reminded that this is my time…our time. In the words of Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption, “Get busy living or get busy dying.” So, I’m taking out my pen, grabbing a calendar, filling the squares with plans, and riding with the current to the sea.

Stay Where Your Feet Are

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“Wherever your feet are let your head and heart be also.”

S D Armstrong
Covid Caution Comfort

Living alone and in covid caution, I find that I am spending an inordinate amount of time conversing with that tiny little voice in my head. We’re like best buddies spending hours together in front of the fire, sipping mango-ginger tea discussing the profound and the mundane. Sometimes we agree on a conclusion, but we often talk in circles. Lately, we’ve been discussing being present, what exactly that means, and perhaps more importantly…how to achieve it. One of us will stress the importance of living in the moment while the other blethers on about making plans and considering options. We wonder… if we only have the present moment…what happens to memories of the past or desires for the future? It’s confusing.

I know I don’t want to live my life constantly looking backward at the past or the way things used to be. But, conversely, I don’t want to live my life in a future of…someday I’m gonna… or… it’ll be better when. Wouldn’t it be a pity if I fail to recognize each unique, unrepeatable moment by remaining stuck in a past that has already taught all its lessons or in anticipation of a future full of what-ifs? Perhaps living in the present means existing in the space between.

“Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life.”

Thich nhat hanh

Since I prefer discussions to nearly any form of physical activity, I find it rather remarkable that I…a rather slug-like person…have more than one friend who has ridden a bicycle from one shore of the United States to the other. Years ago, my friend, Linda, was the first to take up the challenge. Her route was mapped, and her stops were planned. She was trained, fit, and ready to go. She dipped her bike tires in the Pacific Ocean near Portland, Oregon, then set off to meet three young men who were going to make the trip with her. Together they began the adventure.

At some point early on, Linda became separated from her companions. In those pre-cellphone pre-internet days, with no hope of reconnecting with the guys, she wandered into a cafe to grab a cup of coffee and ponder her next move. Before long, she was relating her tale of woe to four of the coffee shop regulars who were seated at a nearby table. She was disheartened and discouraged. Could she go on alone, should she go on alone, or did it make more sense to pack up her bike and take the next flight home? The old men listened carefully, and then the one with the salt and pepper whiskers and a Johnny Cash t-shirt put down his cup and looked at her earnestly. Then, slowly and deliberately, he asked, “Can you do today?”

“Sure, I can do today,” she replied.

“Then do today. You can always quit tomorrow.”

And so it went all across the United States. Each day she would rise and ask herself. “Can you do today? Then she’d add,” You can always quit tomorrow.”

Knowing that she only had to do today and could always quit tomorrow gave Linda permission to cast worries aside and be fully awake and aware during this never to be repeated adventure. Together with the preparations and conditioning she had done, this simple idea allowed her to move forward one day at a time while staying right where her feet were… in the toe clips of her bike…alive, joyful, and open. She lived each day enjoying the wind in her hair, feeling the aching muscles of the climb, marveling at the beauty of the earth that surrounded her, grateful for the blessings of people she met along the way, and truly living in the present moment.


You Can Always Quit Tomorrow
Photo credit: Pexels-Pixabay

“Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.”

George Harrison”

It’s probably true that if I want to hear God laugh, I just have to tell Her my plans. On the other hand, having a plan…preparing for what might lie ahead…takes much of the worry out of an uncertain future and allows us to live with confidence that all will be well. Using lessons from the past, we can see the path forward and can relax, be present, and delight in the ride.

It’s not necessary to forget or ignore the past to live in the moment. Just don’t stay there. Check the weather report, study for the test, make sure there’s gas in the tank, and then let it be what it will. We’ve done what we can. Pay attention, savor, and enjoy. Then even if things don’t work out the way we want or expect we’ll know that everything will be all right.

All of life is lived in short, bite-sized pieces…days, hours, minutes. Ordinary moments. None of us can do more than live the best now we can. We don’t have to do life all at once. We just have to do it one day at a time. And…there are times when we need to remind ourselves…that each day is lived one hour…one minute… at a time. Sometimes it’s enough just to do that one hour…that single minute, knowing that even in moments of pain, despair, fear, and grief, living in the moment can help us find peace, hope, and grace. 

“Living in the moment means letting go of the past and not waiting for the future. It means living your life consciously, aware that each moment you breathe is a gift.”

Oprah Winfrey
The Chapel at Sunrise
Star Island 2021

One summer, as the week was winding down at the Arts Retreat on Star Island, the minister for the week, Rev Bill Clark, gave us this instruction “Don’t leave the island,” he said, “until you leave the island.”

All of our off-island problems would be waiting for us onshore when The Thomas Layton docked in Portsmouth. So why pick up that luggage before it’s absolutely necessary? With seven miles separating us from the mainland, why squander our remaining time concerning ourselves with that we couldn’t control anyway. Instead, drink in the startling beauty of the star-studded sky, the comforting warmth of friendships, the peace of a chapel full of candlelight, and the orchestral sound of sea birds and waves…remembering to stay where our feet are, living in the glory of now.

The White Island Lighthouse
September 2021

We build our future upon bricks we laid in the past and let go of what we can’t control, realizing the only time we really have is the moment we are living. Sometimes that includes creating the grocery list, putting gas in the car, and making the bed. Mountaintop experiences are rare, so we must find joy in the ordinary, the mundane, and the common. Let the chocolate melt on our tongue. Feel the crunch of snow beneath our feet. Watch the birds at the feeder. Smile at strangers and hold our loved ones close. After all, I ask that wee voice…isn’t that living in the moment and being present for life?

“THIS is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Psalm 118:24

Epilogue….Two months later, Linda dipped her tires in the Atlantic Ocean in Portland, Maine