Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Save Some Time

Save some time to dream
Save some time for yourself
Don't let your time slip away
Or be stolen by someone else.

- John Mellencamp

* * *

There is a truth we tend to walk on by because it troubles the mind to consider: we are a finite event. This life, this consciousness, this name, this form is finite and we waste our time on useless things. I'm not talking about the smallness of mindless entertainments or the like. No, I define useless as anything that does not help you discover, reveal and live by the soul that lives inside you, waiting to emerge from its debasement, your neglect, your unwillingness to admit it exists at all. That is why you're fucked, friend. You have cut yourself off from the very thing that could save you: yourself.

Blah, blah, blah, you say.
Fuck you, I say.

This is not a game. It is time you set aside the excuses and fears that have kept you trapped in this welter of unhappiness and drift and crack open your metaphoric chest to see what is there. We pass through our days like idle shoppers - glad to acquire what catches our eye, but glad enough to window shop. We take in what what others have determined for us. We consume ideas and beliefs that others have set down as the way, the truth (or its opposite - nihilism and deconstruction) and our souls are consumed, swamped, painted over, forgotten.

And you wonder why your shit's all fucked up.
And because you brought all this crap in from the outside you have ready made excuses as to why it doesn't work out.
And you wonder why your shit's all fucked up.

You got to this unhappy, lifeless place because somewhere along the line you learned to doubt yourself, to fear your soul. The expectations and demands of those around you snuffed out that light and you let them do it. You fucking let it happen rather than risk losing approval or love or money.

What you got now?

Thought so.

Anytime, every time you play not to lose, when you hedge, or play it safe, you lose. You lose just that much more of your connection to yourself, to the world around you, to the weird, insistent hum of Life calling you into your life. But the analogy is weak, no? This isn't a game. This is your one chance to live and you've been hedging your bet against time's inexorable march.

* * *

Why give away our time at labor whose benefit can only be measured in dollars? Why give away our time in return for a love that flattens out to mucilage? Why not insist on work that is truly yours, or love that is electric? If you don't own you time or your name or your dreams or your soul, if you haven't taken possession of the gift you have been given and found out what it can do, then how can you possibly know that all love must fade, or that all work is unfair? You don't know what you don't know because you haven't admitted to yourself that there is something more than this.

But you know there is. You fucking know it. This is the hurt that keeps you up at night. These are the prayers you get on your knees and beg God to answer. This is the love unrequited. So, here, my friend, here's is what I have for you: when you go inside you will find a way to slip the knot of time. Not because you will become infinite, but because you will finally be able to fulfill your name and so add to the infinite. The way to get there is to save some time to dream. It is your connection to your soul and your soul is your connection to everything else. Life moves from the inside out.

Promise.

Oh, and there is this, as well: you will no longer fear your death. You will be too busy living and love, electric and alive, will know your name.

* * *

Boom. Boom. Boom.

__________

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