time / present - the sonnet

“Time is a construct” - Lao Tzu - at 62, for me a fairly substantial construct, but construct it is; elstwhys “how can we” as Sir Stephen Hawking has asked, “look backward in time, but not into the future?” By all accounts time has not always been with us, at least not our part of existence. It is the eternal from which we are comprised based on what “we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind” - Albert Einstein. At the instant of expansion from the initial singularity - time, space, energy and mass are considered to have become manifest. Regardless of your faith regarding then, now or afterlife, we can only be that from which we came. We are not out of time, but time itself - a condition from which the chattering monkeys of our mind demand attention away from the eternal present. If we are no more than time itself sprung from the root of all, what could possibly compensate us for our very nature, time - the caress of a loving other, a small Mediterranean island or life eternal? This being an irony itself when logic suggests that time is the only thing we actually possess? No small irony we have become possessed by the only thing we have in abundance. How can we as a passing awareness in a universe of indifference become worthy of this precious commodity, or if you will - capital, though i prefer Bob Dylan’s expression, “time is an ocean that ends at the shore”? It has been suggested our oceans will be dead in 40 years, but then the same nameless authorities suggest by that time there will be more plastic in the oceans than fish - perhaps we will have done our progenitors a favor by killing off the womb of life.

I write with my time, and i draw, paint, carve and seek the fragrance of woman; beans are good, but no substitute for the sweet scent of love, or tangible feel of work. Nor am i sure which is better for me - i like both. What i don’t understand, as yet, is the in-between - not that t’aint, but that which is not work or love - moment minus purpose? This curiosity seems to hold for me the same fascination as “dark matter” does for physicists. Time that is not assigned, be it spiritual or venal confuses me. My day for death will come. I used to dread that day, because death gives no indication of purpose or unknowns for time - my most loyal companion. Other conceits of my life have given way - strength, belonging, even my most noble quest - purpose quail at the sight of death; but waiting for meaning about time minus purpose eludes me. Who or what ascribes meaning to the “dark matter” - particles, wavelength - gravitational or otherwise? Does it even matter what path this unexplained curiosity courses? If it didn’t, i wouldn’t write about it, would i? To what end though? There is no comment i can make or concept to develop that will affect the outcome of my existence - the gods may choose to curse me with great wealth, may even grace my work with a model/companion, but nothing will alter the passage of time. What if that consciousness from the “initial singularity” thought the same. Stop laughing; if we have consciousness, how is it not possible that all which is fallout from the “big bang” could be dissimilar? Logic is our friend.

We of time, contrary to what i may have conjectured, have little time to us - Stephen Hawking, seemingly the only one amongst us with balls, says our future lay elsewhere - extraterrestrial. I’m of the mind, if we couldn’t or wouldn’t make our case here with what was available to us here, how the fuck are we going to lodge elsewhere? Or perhaps more significantly - should we? My aged nails grow thick, does that function entitle me to another shot back into the “initial singularity” where time is of no consequence? Our species is barely able to defend its inherent composition - water, from adulteration by a handful of pencil-neck geeks in pretty threads. Funny we have more time than water, but i don’t hear anyone laughing. The thieves of our life’s moments currently enjoy a vast absence from responsibility for their cupidity - “currently” and “vast” being the operative expressions. However, reality is little concerned with corporate flimflam; far less than what media chatter depicts. Leonard Cohen, i believe was closer when he suggested “there’s a mighty judgement coming”, but I don’t know when. That you have taken time from your busy schedule to look at these words gives me hope. Not the sort one feels from new love, but the sort that makes the transition into the great beyond more welcome. I do not dread losing my ability to contemplate such things as time, but rue the thought of having been distracted from loving concern for all others by a handful of ciphers whose concept of existence is predicated on avarice, so much so they have taken from you your most precious resource - time - and have yet to gain one millisecond for themselves; nor shall they. How can the lords of our world be so deluded as to think there is profit from stealing what we barely understand much less possess? 

Some will use their time to counter uncomfortable notions espoused herein, for which i apologize - use your time more wisely. Others will find residence and expend their resources to accomplish dreamt for ends - bless you. The reality for each is to her/his own good office; i have chosen to spend mine as fruitfully as i know how - the most interesting result of which is having no idea of your response - nor much care? For many years i have cared what others think, not just about writing - my work - my appearance, my demeanor - my being. Early on one critic compared my writing to, “throwing spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks.” At that time, i resented her, but now find welcome for anyone willing to show me error in my thinking - time is short; ignorance long. Truth be told, i am a little like spaghetti tossed against a well; my last wife and i even decorated the wall over our stove in the loft with much tossed spaghetti; it was as good a way as any to spend our time together, much better than Leonard Cohen’s “getting and having,” which ultimately sealed the fate of our marriage. I currently sit with a wad of marijuana under my cheek - last of the beer poured into a flagon .  . and now magically it is the next day. Leonard Cohen’s “Future” is playing, but i’m thinking about Bob Dylan - . . “for me the future is already a thing of the past .  . “ . Lao Tzu allegedly said “if you are living in the past, you are depressed; if you are living in the future, you are anxious; if you are happy, you are living in the present.” For many years, i’ve used this homily as a prompt to remain in my skin and be aware of all i can with senses available to that mortal coil. However, it turns out while researching Lao Tzu’s quote, i learned Lao Tzu never said such a thing, or at least according to the author who relied on Wikipedia for his sources. Is this fictional quote at odds with the logic of remaining in the present?

Is the present now any different than the instant of expansion from the initial singularity - “The Big Bang” if you will? What a hoot that would be for all the afterlifers to find themselves in the mayhem of that moment? I try to be compassionate, but sometimes .  .  . Back to whether this “now” is any different than the “now” before time existed - what’s the harm in envisioning our beings as powerful as that state of existence which contained all that comprises our expanding universe? I have seen where ole’ “brass balls” himself - Sir Stephen Hawking has suasively argued of emissions from a black hole. Bear in mind the escape velocity of a black hole is greater than the speed of light - note: researching just now, i’ve learned that in Cern they have discovered motion greater than the “Cosmic Constant” - light, which had been considered the fastest motion in the universe .  . So i guess ole’ Brass Balls Hawking really knows his stuff .  . There is a man who has better reason than most to fully appreciate how precious time is. What can we learn from his joy for life? His willingness to face down sacred cows - forgive me Dr. Einstein, anybody who could make Marilyn Monroe laugh is aces in my book; i wish you and Marilyng could have spent more time together. I’d have liked to have seen her as an old blossom someplace other than my mind’s eye. Thank you kind reader, i’d be lying to you were i to suggest parsing time with you has been easy - it has not been, for i am now older than i was when i started, happier, but older. Perhaps getting old is truly a blessing. Imagine for a moment that we are only in the beginning chapters of our book of history, and that when Sir Stephen Hawking finally understood time travel - his first destination was to Marilyn’s side that sad night. It is possible that if Dr. Einstein could make Marilyn laugh, Sir “brass balls” Hawking may have already given Ms. Monroe immortality, and ipso facto my theory of g_d as woman will finally become understood.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” - William Shakespeare

+-+-+-+-+- 

present / the sonnet

Does my head hurt because i essayed time?

Better i it, than it should assay me,

for there is little life if you just mime

what you imagine the world wants to see.

Where’s that spark Commander Cohen describes?

Is it found on the mountain of slow moving

time Bob sings about with beautiful vibes,

or does it just spring from an act of giving.

What is this speck in time we all cling to,

some for so long its atoms have dispersed?

If history’s a story - and false too,

what of the future, and dreams of being 1st?

What is wrong with breathing in and out, in

and out? Where would you go if this ain’t heaven?