All we know of time is change. Perhaps Einstein was right in saying that it is merely a most persistent illusion. As I look in the mirror and see the wrinkles becoming sharper as the years progress, I think of this illusion, time, and all I know of change, which we all know to be quite real. What is a year? What is an hour? Perhaps all that time ever is is what we make of it. In some ways like love, but perhaps less sentimental. Another quote comes to mind, from Shawshank Redemption: “Get busy living, or get busy dying.” For as we cannot escape the grasp of time, we cannot help but change. It is purely our choice in which way we decide to go. And here is hope: defeated and broken, Jesus Christ of Nazareth as He was being nailed to the cross said, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Sometimes the only thing we are left with is the strongest thing of all, that somehow, we believe. And even in death, we live.
a nameless flower
11:42pm tuesday, 19th january
During times of introspection,I have enjoyed this little gem:
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.~ Marcel Proust
a nameless flower