It's About Time
TUESDAY. It's 27 degrees. The sun is shining like there's no tomorrow. Within a few hours the temperature will rise to the mid-sixties. This is the kind of day we'd celebrate in the northeast, the kind of day that ended a dreary five-day stretch of drizzle and overcast skies, the kind of day that made us happy to be alive. Here in Albuquerque these days are the norm. I still celebrate them, but far more often.
We were all so exhausted last night we hit the hay at 8:30. I probably would have snuck off to bed at 7:30, but it felt way too strange to retire so early in the evening. Besides, I had to wait for my dinner to digest.
As expected, everyone rose with the sun this morning. I still haven't turned all my clocks back, so I'm never sure what time it is. The three clocks in my office all display different times. One is set at Eastern Time (so I can keep up with my East Coast clients), one is set at Mountain Time, and the third one is still set at Mountain Daylight Time. As I type this, it's either 7:30, 8:30, or 9:30 AM, depending on the direction of my glance. Yes, it makes life interesting, but it's probably time to effect a uniform setting on my clocks. While I enjoy the challenge of deciding whether it's time for breakfast or lunch, I suspect living in parallel dimensions complicates my life needlessly. One time reality is enough.
Does knowing the exact time really matter? Probably not. If we follow the rhythms of the sun, as the birds and trees do, our lives would unfold quite naturally. Birds migrate precisely. In New Hampshire I anticipated the arrival of our spring songbirds to the day. I predicted the exact day our Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks and Hummingbirds would return from winter holiday. Come to think of it, birds are better at showing up on time than I am, and all without a timepiece. Go figure.
Time is a human concept, invented to mark the passage from birth to death. Defined as the Fourth Dimension, time also helps define the movement of three-dimensional objects in our solar system and beyond. Over the ages humans have spent an awful lot of time trying to explain time. My favorite words about time were spoken by Captain Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation: "Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived."
The trees are also very clever about predicting when it's time to drop leaves and hunker down for winter. When days grow shorter, the leaves ignite with a blaze of color. I was told the other day by Sam that leaves don't fall. They're pushed. I think this secret should continue to be well-kept because we really don't want the seasons renamed Winter, Spring, Summer, and Push. Leaves do change color in the southwest, but I miss New England's fiery red maple leaves. Brilliant yellow and orange are quite beautiful, but red is clearly missing from the southwest's arboreal palette.The other night I watched Chronos, a fascinating DVD by Ron Fricke, producer and director of Baraka, one of my all-time favorite movies. A 40-minute masterpiece created in 1985 and remastered in 2004, Chronos was filmed entirely in time-lapse photography. Like Baraka, Chronos is a non-verbal art film. As its title implies, it's about time. If you're interested in exploring this genre, check out the Spirit of Baraka website for information about more award-winning non-verbal films.
Happy Halloween! I've been waiting several weeks to place all our individually wrapped snack-size candy bars in a large basket by the front door. I pray for few trick or treaters and plentiful leftovers. May you all have plentiful leftovers on this holiday!
And don't forget to cherish the moment, even if it's raining and you're out of chocolate.
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