You all probably thought I went down the rabbit hole and that was it. No, not quite yet.
Among other things, what I’ve been thinking about is cycles. It’s all very well to talk about linear time, going from point A to point B. There’s a certain satisfaction in the sense of a journey being taken, traveling always forward. Gazing ahead in anticipation of what’s coming around the next bend in the road.
But I like the structure of repeating cycles. The circadian rhythm of my body’s internal shifting through a 24-hour period. The great circle of seasons. The liturgical year of holy celebrations. Holidays and festivals that demarcate the year.
I’ve accepted the fluctuating seasons of my creativity – the ebb and flow of my artistic energy and inspiration levels.
The waxing and waning cycles of the moon from fingernail to full.
The seasonal migrations of birds as they respond to their ancient internal calls to wing north and south.
Spring with its exploding torrent of life and sound and color.
Summer’s heavy, saturated lushness and steamy richness.
The bittersweet days of autumn – a season that overflows with color at the same time as it begins to diminish.
And finally, the clear, sharp focus of winter – an opportunity to see the bones of nature in all their intricacy.
I have little tolerance for the daily repetition of tasks, and yet, deprived of those small gestures – cleaning the dishes, sorting the mail – I would likely find they might be better seen as sturdy anchors of the present moment.
But the cycles – they form a scaffold upon which I arrange the stuff of my life. They’re the signposts, the memorial stones, the cradling arms that embrace my days, my life.
What are the cycles that most hold your sense of time’s passage?