New Years
What a concept, time. We measure it in years, months, weeks, days, minutes and seconds. To me it seems like one long continuous flow of awareness. Some part of us, the mind, holds the memories and impressions. We weave them together as us, like the old cartoon books that you turn the pages fast to make a movie. We believe that all of those memories, plus our genetic predispositions, are us.
The little me watches the movement of time, like the doomed man watches his last hours. It screams out, “there is so little left.” It groans in agony. It certainly doesn’t want to celebrate the passage of time this new year.
A fullness envelopes me as I write. I feel the energy in and around this body. I disappears into it. . . . . . . .
Good by for 2008.