It's Time!

Now you lay thee down to rest.

Pink Floyd: Time

“Where am I? What the fu… I can’t see a thing. What was I doing? Evelyn? Evelyn?”

I really enjoy this first part. The part when your mind is racing. That switch of recognition when the gravity of the situation hasn’t quite clicked on. You will try and rationalise your predicament, then when that fails, you’ll turn to some fictitious omnipotent, who will answer your cries. That won’t be me. I am no God; I am the space that is filled by your awareness. I am your beginning and now your end.

Sometimes I miss the early eras. Early inhabitants were simple, and they didn’t resist me. They lived for the sake of living. I mean, for them it was a struggle for survival from sunup to sundown, but it was never boring. Now you ‘evolved’ creatures are either trying to stretch your lives beyond your frail bodies’ capabilities or ignoring me completely.

Now you, yes you; you are near the end of your journey, your last breath is near, and you realise what you lost.

Typical of your lot. Understanding, always too late.

“I d d…don’t understand! We were in the car. No, we were planning something, and I was in the car…maybe?”

I would laugh if I had the ability, but alas I’ve watched emotionless, as you flail in your follies.

“My wife. Where is my beautiful Evelyn? Evelyn! Why can’t I see her?"

Talking Heads: Once in a lifetime

Think of the experiences one man has, in the time he is allowed. From birth to death, the opportunities that present themselves are limitless, but how many can you act on. How many have you acted on, or worse what do you regret acting on. The tears shed for your inconsiderate ways.

I would wag a finger in disapproval, had I a finger to wag. How satisfying that would be, but I get my satisfaction in your failure. Perhaps I am not so emotionless, taking such pleasures. I have been watching so long.

“Are my children safe?”

Your life has been crammed full of all the necessary things that make you a good human, endless things that are actually designed to take me from you; to waste me. To lose me.

If you have time to think, then you have time to ask questions, but they don’t want that. Now you ask, where did all your time go? When did your children grow up? Where is your beautiful wife? Where is your beautiful house?

Remember that time with your boy when he asked you to play with him? Or that time he asked you teach him how to ride his new bike. You didn’t have time then; only you did, you just didn’t use me wisely.

You can look back as much as you like, but there is no going back. It’s gone, but for your memory. Remember when you little girl asked you why the boys looked at her all the time. Do you regret your offhand dismissal of her.

“Am I floating? Why can’t I see?”

Though I exist, I am also a creation of man. Dinosaurs weren’t aware of time, only the rise and fall of the sun, or the to-and-fro of the seasons. Certainly, I exist regardless of your existence, but man has divided me into lines on a graph, the position of hands on a precious family heirloom passed down from your father and from his father, and while it is a lovely example of man’s ingenuity at keeping me, is it not just a reminder of what little respect you show me. They give me a name and record me, but I am regardless of any machine that counts me down.

A life is a measurement in time, and it is finite. Why can’t you beings see that?

I am a road you travel from birth to death. I am linear, there is no changing this.

“We have a holiday planned. I just don’t get it. The flights are booked. We fly out… When is it? When am I?

It has long amused me, the irony of the fragile existence of man and his ignorance to that fragility. He wastes his days like he will live forever, yet at back of mind he knows better. He devises more and more ways to extend his life through science, then creates new devices to bring it to an end.

“Is this it? I had so much more I wanted to do!”

You are taught to want things, but what you must lose to acquire them is, me.

These magic boxes that hang on your loungeroom wall, or rest in the palm of your hand; they are what’s stealing me from you, from your family.

Perhaps it’s too late for you, now you are near the end, but maybe with your last breath you can tell your son that the corporate dreams you pursued don’t have to be his, and if fortune favours him, he will hug his son like you should have. Tell your daughter to take her place in the world, even if the world is telling her she can’t. Tell them to take time to look around them, to walk in a forest, swim in the ocean, to help someone less fortunate, if they can.

Ah music! Music is the most wonderful thing, and the best thing you mortals have ever created. It is wonderful and you have to keep time for it to sound good. Tell them to move to it also. It is the one thing I am jealous of; human’s ability to move to the rhythm of life.

Tell them to fit as much in, as their mind and body allow and make sure they share it with those who will appreciate the gift.

Because a gift is what I am, and you should treasure me jealously.

“Goodbye my loves. I’m sorry.”

Authors note:

The sermon today is provided by Phil. He puts the Phil in philosophy.

When I saw this challenge, time was the only thing I could think of as something lost. I lose things all the time, but eventually my wife reminds me where I put them. Time, once lost, can't be replaced.

We all have the same issues with balancing our time among all the important parts of our lives; partners, children, family, work. I wanted to view a chunk of time from the perspective of time as if it were aware of us. It was harder than I thought and became a bit preachy.

And so ends today's sermon. If you would be so kind as to pass the donation plate along the aisle to be collected.