August Rush

Time has this rude habit of running out on a person.  The older I get, there seems to be less of it to go around. 

This thing all things devours; Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds had stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, And beats mountain down- J. R. R. Tolkein (The Hobbit).

It is one of our most valuable commodities, yet we live as though there is an unlimited supply of it. We forget that irretrievable moments are attached to those seconds, that keep slipping away. 

There is the flip-side, where we are so focused on getting through the endless list of things we have to do within a limited time-frame.  We neglect to do the other things that do not fall on the list.  Those things may be the difference between a great mood or a miserable one. 

We are chasing a lead, and time has a head-start.  The unfair disadvantage is that we are left with the consequences of rushed decisions. 

If mastering time-management is part of adulthood then I am failing dismally.  I have developed a bad habit of scheduling time with my friends and then bailing on them to complete other tasks. 

The horror is knowing about these tasks well in advance and then delaying them to the point where the time dedicated to them runs over to parts scheduled for things of "lesser" importance.  Those "things" often happen to be people. 

It must be because negotiations are welcome with people.  They are always open to hearing excuses and they seem to understand, well at least they pretend to.  Tasks are different.  If they are not completed then they just haunt until they finally get done. 

So with the eighth month of the year entering its final week, people start re-examining the year's resolutions.  These reflections are useful for restructuring and addressing management issues. 

Living towards deadlines is never ideal.  But it is so easy to get caught in that trap.  Once a task is completed, the next one automatically springs up.  We become so self-consumed in this race.  What is the point?  What is the point of trimming the hedge when no one smells the roses?  What is the point of having friends when there is no time set aside to see them?

Living rushed lives means we live past each other.  We neglect the things that add quality to life and we are left with regrets about wasted time.   

            




    

     

As You Are

Death, in the beginning, makes you aware of the absence you will feel for the rest of your life.    

It was July of my second year, I had one last macro-economics exam left for the semester.  I decided to stay at uni for the weekend to study, despite being told that my grandmother was being administered morphine to numb the pain of her bone cancer.

I thought, "Gee, I only have one exam left and then I will be able to go home and see her again within a week".  That was the Friday.  On that very Friday, my heart was pulling towards home but my mind was persisting to stay, with logic and discipline.   The following Sunday, while I was curled up in my warm bed, I was awoken by a phone call.  A phone call I wasn't ready to answer.  A phone call I wish I never answered.

Sure I was sad for a few days.  Then there was the reassurance that she was in a better place.  I didn't let it soak and become musty.  I let it run through me... built the altar and left the sacrifice to burn out.  But the smell of smoke lingered on me. You lose something in it, but you take something from it.

The last time I saw her, I forgot.  I know that the last time I saw her she was lying in a coffin... and I know the second last time I saw her she was lying in a bed.  But I forget the last time I saw her as she was.  And with each day I forget more and more.  And I only remember the absence, what it's like when she isn't around.  You lose something, but you take something else.

I forgot what it feels like when she's around, but I know what it feels like when she's not around.

In the past three years, more people I know have slipped out of mortality.  Some of them were just acquaintances, others were friends and some were people who were dear to people that are dear to me.

If people you know are dying, how different does that make you?  What sets you apart?  When will you stop breathing?  When will your presence cease? When will your absence begin?  And who will remember you as you were?

You think people care about you as much as you care about yourself.  You think your company is valuable and that you are leaving a significant mark on the world.  Do people see you as you see yourself?  As you are, you are forgettable.

My grandmother was a brilliant human being, wise, kind and respectable.  But those are adjectives I am comfortable using to describe her because the memories I have of her are leaving me.  I don't know her smell anymore.  I don't know her voice without thinking of the words she use to say.  I can't remember the colour of her eyes without looking at a photograph.  And if I do remember something about her,  I can't trust that it is, as she was.

The smoke may linger in the beginning, but it wears off.  You get immersed in other smells and then you are left with hints of it that come and go, depending on the direction the wind takes.

Death, in the end, is the absence you will leave behind.  The absence of you, as you are.