Time Does Not Exist- No Time for Time

Time, we often forget in Western society, has been based according to a Roman Calendar but it is important for us to recognize that various cultures have varying calendars and therein perceptions of time.

So a man of thirty in the Roman Calendar may actually be conceived at a different age in life in another culture.

 

Age therefore is conceptually viewed differently. Accomplishments then should not be based upon the age of a man or woman for they are variable in conception and therefore inconsistent or irrelevant to them.

For a day can feel like a week and a week a day. A victorious battle of a day may make up the stories and imaginations of a man for a lifetime. The moment of birth for the mother may feel like years when in fact it is only hours.

The way we humans conceive time and therein age is very important if not vitally important to understanding ourselves and our self-gratification and fulfillment.

Perhaps not knowing our age would be more helpful. Rather we would measure our time or rather our life by our experiences.

For a youth may experience more dynamic events than an elder who remained in his village continuing his mundane life. Rather than using a number as the tool of measurement for our lives, our lives would take a qualitative versus a quantitative value.

And that’s how we should Iive- qualitatively. The passion that comes from not waiting, but actively being involved in the measurement of your life. For love and health will be your sources and will be the true determinants of your life.

So try for a day to forget about your age. Forget about the numbers that restrict you into social categories. Rise above it.

Firing Time

It's very odd.

Sometimes weeks feel like days.
And days feel like weeks.
I think time is slacking on some of his duties.
I think I might fire him altogether since he seems to be such a bother.

Inner Peace

I suddenly realized that no land could give me comfort and no one could give me peace but that I had to find and give it to myself.

I felt as if someone had poisoned my stomach.

The Naggings of Poverty : The Culture of the Poor

Sometimes I struggle to stay positive. I think of all the rich kids and hate them for their wealth. Part of my despises it and part of me has such jealousy burning inside. I would use the money to continue my education, I could move and find a job and provide for myself. Instead, I see them flying across the world, pasting pictures of their 'holidays' (which seem to never end) in Spain, Morrocco and other such destinations. I sit at my parents place, working since I was 15 and before that cleaning the house for my mother without allowance. I've been saving my money since I was five and still feel like I never have enough.

I'd like to think that the battle of the classes has been surpressed in Canada, that money has been dispersed but it's all a lie. The rich still prosper and the poor still strive. I've realized my class in life. Perhaps with a bit of enthusiasm and Weberian methodology I could rise to the top but my chances are slim. So I've decided that creating my own business is the next thing to do. I'll be my own boss. I may not be rich but hopefully I can make a content life for myself and rid myself of my  hatred towards the rich.

Even though they may work hard, and that they cannot control their wealthy circumstances as some 'woe to them' have been born into wealth. No, no, the culture of the poor will have to do for me. That is if I had a choice, because the poor, we don't have a choice. Our only choice is to ignore the naggings of money and focus on what we can find content in. But some days I must admit can be quite challenging, but the good thing is: you're not alone.

The Importance of Being Wise

Wisdom is not only accepting what you know is right, but accepting where you are wrong.

I think that a lot of heart ache and pain from relationships is based upon this. Stubborness can destroy what can otherwise be healthy relationships. By accepting and acknowledging where you are wrong, you allow yourself to grow, and opportunities for relationships to grow.

The night I was to watch a man die.

Last night a man was taken off life support. That man was my uncle. On other nights I would be off to watch a movie in the theatre, but that night I was to watch a man die.

I know I'm young and have much to learn. But I realized, as my mother heaved, crying for her brother ,that pain has many layers. I realized that the pain I felt for my mother was more than what I feel often in my own experiences of pain. I couldn't do anything for her. My words and comfort could never heal her pain and in that I felt a pain so deep and helpess. A sense of despair that all I could do was witness her grieving.

I sat and waited. I never saw a person die. Take their last gulps of breath. I was petrified. I kept trying to think of it as natural. Eating, sleeping..dying. They took him off of the oxygen and he began to gulp for breath. It was terrifying. We said prayers around him and our family all put our hands on his chest. He kept breathing. Gulping for breath, but continuing on.

I went to watch a man die. But he I never saw it. Instead then, I saw my family together around him sharing stories and memories, realizing that death also is not something sad. That it brings family together , I felt a bit guilty when we were laughing about memories but then I knew he'd want to be passing while surrounded by laughter.

It's an odd thing, death. My mother says she's not scared of it. When I googled death I see why society seems so frightened with the dark, foreboding images.

 My uncle is continuing to breathe his last breathes. I guess he wanted to give me a show afterall. Our family are fighters, even when death is our standing opponent.

Everything in Moderation

I guess in life our goal is to reach some sort of level of happiness or content. A place where we feel free, unburdened. But of course life isn't like that. We need to suffer and we need to be joyous. Sometimes it takes time to go from one to the other while other times it can quickly change from day to hour to minute to second.

Life would be nothing without sorrow.
Life would be nothing without joy.

So we must indulge in both to live.

It's a very hard balance to find. And it is also difficult to get confused between pleasure and joy which are two very different things. However, too we must balance our pleasure and allow ourselves once in a while to be pleased.

So when you are sad, know that if you did not know sadness, neither would know joy. So when you are joyful your heart can truly bask in it.

And when you are joyous, know that if you did not joy, neither would you know sadness. For what would joy be if there was no understanding of how precious it was and what dark places it rescues us from.

Just to be thankful...

To be thankful is often overlooked. I grew up praying before every meal which disappeared once I left for university. It was odd for me at first because automatically before I ate I would pause and I remember going to friends' places and pausing and then realizing that they didn't pray.

I spent a few weeks in Egypt at a development camp and there a man told me that every night he thanks God for ten things before he goes to bed. I'm not the best for keeping good habits such as this, and I tried it for awhile and it was wonderful. I'm trying to continue it now and I've had friends do this and say it causes some sort of peacefulness to arise in them.

I realize how fortunate I am and sometimes I come to the point that I am ashamed. I do not know why God has given me so much where there are people who are so much better than me, so much more dedicated to helping others. But I guess at the end of the day, it is your spirit that you can be most thankful for. As was written by Kahlil Gibran, 'it is but little when you give of your possessions, it is when you give of yourself that you truly give.'

So give thanks to God or to whom you worship. Always remind yourself that the power you hold is not in your possessions/ or your wealth, that it is in your spirit which is strongest when it is in the most poorest, direst state. But by giving thanks you humble your spirit and you encourage it to grow for challenges ahead. Kind of like excercising before a big race, because let's face it, sometimes it seems like we'll never make it but with strength we will.

Strength in Weakness and Dignity in Death

A thought occured to me today. Well quite a few did to be honest. I always wonder why as humans we just don't get things. I mean there a specific life lessons taught to us after being learnt through hundreds, thousands of peoples' lives and we disregard them.

One of them I realized was that true strength comes from weakness. Heroes are, most of the time, men or women who have been challenged by their situation and are called to be great. But not for themselves or self fame, for the good of others. In the Bible, for example, heroes are often called upon in times of weakness but it is as so that they discover their inner strength.

The importance of dignity in the matters of death is another thought that crept into  my mind. I study the Scottish Gaelic language and when I hear dialects and expressions 'dying' and traditions disappearing it saddens me. But the Gaels are romantics. Their writing is so romantic that it could never be fully understand in English. This is just a small example of something that the world has completely overlooked. But yet it has stayed ' pure' in its isolation. Like the Gaelic warriors who traditionally would fight till the death and  go down in dignity. After seeing how Scottish culture has been boxed into stereotypes so that people never hear about the traditional Gaelic stories, the gift of second-sight, the workings of the thread, I realized that even though one could say these are dying, they are dying preserved in their own way. They haven't been mutliated, stretched apart and sold. They remain in their own way and in that way, if they do die, they die in rest and purity. And there's something beautiful in that. Something that at first I didn't quite understand.

Ambigous Time

The other day, I took a stroll in a local antiques shop, and this isn't like any other antiques shop. It is about a football field in length with all sorts of gadgets and thingy-ma-bobs. Once in a while I'll walk through to see what's new (ironic, eh) and eventually I came across a great oak grandfather clock. Although it sat tightly in a shadowy corner, it could not fit in with pieces around it. It towered over me with its sweeping curves and detailed gold emblazed pendulum. After looking at the price tag, with the handwritten note "French clock, 1800s, $1,400" I gazed up at its face speculating the hands. The long hand ticked away. And in the silence with all sorts of clocks around me I could hear the faint tinking of their hands. What an odd thing I thought. Their owners long gone. Old photographs were placed around and I suddenly thought it funny in a way. That even though time had stopped for them, it continued to be counted.

My uncle told me that time is made up. That man made it because they need something to assure them of their purpose on earth. And so they made the concept of time. Of course, at first most would believe this to be ridiculous. But after sometime thinking, time does seem to be such an ambigous thing. And it is so different for different people. People forget that people did not keep track of their age or say to their neighbour 'meet me at 11:15am". Time to an extent was irrelevant. I remember spending some time in Egypt, and everyday we would be suprised with what we would do next. It wasn't planned, our guide would just say 'if God willing, we will do...' Sort of joie de vivre, just taking it as it comes.

Sometimes I think about. What would life be like if I didn't concentrate on time. If I didn't know how old I was because it didn't matter. If I didn't know the seasons by months but rather by knowing the natural changes around me. If I wasn't bothered by having things in because they were supposed to be, but rather because it was the right time for the tasks to be done. I think life would be much slower, which is why I feel country people are often dubbed with being slow about things. But at the same time, what a relief!

Life shouldn't be about time. Life should be about living and enjoying an ambigous existence. Because time, well it's irrelevant.

How will you be remembered?

One thing I will always remember is that life is not about what the world defines as successful, it's what you define as successful.

Often we define ourselves by our jobs. But what does that really say about us personally? I've realized at this point in life, a lot of people dwell on these bragging rights. But as we know, you could have all the money in the world and the 'best' job and be completely and utterly unhappy.

I say to you then, who are you? I'm NOT asking what your job is, even your position in life (i.e. father, mother, sister, brother, uncle, aunt). It's sad that in the long lives that my grandparents had lived, I hardly know anything about them.

How will you be remembered?

Lesson Two

It's difficult sometimes to choose what's best for you. And of course there is nothing wrong with a bit of external advice, but always remember to let YOURSELF be the 'chooser' not those around you.

Often we make decisions without thinking when we are told by people close to us. It cannot be denied that they have our best interest in mind and wish to help us and direct us, but often I have seen opportunities missed because the external source is not quite familiar with the context of the situation.

If it means that we will get hurt, so be it. That's life. We are meant to toil on this earth. I know, it sounds pretty pessimistic, but it is actually the opposite. Why would hope exist if it was not for the toil that we suffer? We must experience the lows to understand the highs. Sometimes getting hurt is just part of the big picture and let's face it, it's really inevitable. So face your fears and do it with hope it mind, because one day it will all turn out alright.