My, Oh, My! Where Did The Time Go!

I am certain you have heard, as I did, that the older a person becomes the faster time goes by. At the age of 62 years I can and will confirm that statement for any doubters reading my post. My last post was on March 16th and here it is April 3rd. I know that to be a fact yet the amount of time that has passed between those two dates in my head is nothing akin to the amount of time the calendar reveals. For me only an hour or so has passed. The pages of the calendar have disappeared one after the other without making a sound. I can see that time is not compassionate nor is it aware of those of us impacted by that worrisome measure of eternity sliced into minute slices for our convenience. Without a measure of time I believe that I, and perhaps you, would begin to flow in a rhythm meant to pulse with the whole of creation, eternity allowing for more than I can think or imagine. As it is I am at odds with the passing of time. My relationship with this precise measurement has changed. My footing is less solid.  At one time the concept of hours, minutes, days, etc. was an immutable fact of life to me. Now I experience time wiht the exact fascination I have while watching time lapsed photography of the skies as a day passes. Clouds, the light and shadows flow over the earth. As a whimsical aside their rush across the sky reminds me of Alice chasing after the White Rabbit. I won't dwell on that as the possibility exists that I will follow suit and find myself off on a stream of consciousness trailing ripples behind me as I join the jolly chase across the skies of earth.

Spring is on the air. The birds are clustering high in the treetops singing and calling back and forth to one another as they lift in unison to fly to a nearby tree, land as a group, settle a moment and return to their merry making. I don't know that they are merry making. It is a fictious dream of mine, derived as much from older cartoon movies as from reading scientific information related to birds. They may be fighting or simply making a racket because that is what they like best. I choose to believe their incessant cawing and singing to be the merriest of merry making.

Time for bed. I am officially worn out.