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Time Keeps on Ticking Into the Future

I want to fly like an eagle...

Songs of the 70s.

We are getting old.  Some of my classmates have already passed on.  I am nearing the age when my mother died.  Part of me wants to cry and tell you: don't hold onto anyone - it doesn't last.  Friends, neighbors change, kids develop, grow, this is what's supposed to happen.  But how can it happen?  Do we all need psychedelic mushrooms to realize that time is but an illusion?  Should we go to outer space?  See how small we are?  Does religion give us just enough ritual to distract from our fates?  How is it we have to watch our parents die slowly/quickly - those with brains so strong, they forgot who they are; those with bodies so intrepid they cannot stand alone?  Why does this life take us from everything to nothing?  How did I lose a mother so young?  A father who nestled into my brain's real-estate for 40 plus years of abandonment (over and over)?  How could this be MY story?

The sages say leave the past.

How do we do this on a daily basis?

How do we remember and forget at the same time?

What happened between getting the kids ready for pre-school and getting them ready for grad-school? 

Where did I go?  Does it matter?

There's a shred of me left: tennis to pickleball, writing diaries to writing blogs, keeping age-old friends- losing some, love of books to where are my glasses, love of people to complete silence.  Embrace, sustain, sacrifice, all pieces of parenthood, fragments of a rich life, nostalgia and suffering, sorrows upon sorrows.  A pink peony. A sick dog.  Asking for help.  Preparing for adventure - hiding from pain.  How we cope now defines our daily lives.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Try to stay open to the little things.  Try to tackle the big ones.  But don't burn yourself out trying.  Should I contemplate my next move in a decades long battle to flex and stay relevant, or should I do the dishes?  Thank God for routines, self-discipline, freedom and longing, tides come in and out.  "Let creation reveal its secrets by and by" -- (Jackson Browne - Before the Deluge).


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