Time – The Inner Voice

It is a deliciously vibrant autumnal day in the Southeast of England. Today, I choose to feed my energy, my zest for life from the fresh blood like coloured leaves of my acer tree on the front drive. The rose-tinted tones of my deciduous shrubs fill me with melancholy and the inescapable gut-wrenching reminder that this too shall pass because nothing lasts, not ever.

And yet, as I begin to lose myself in a labyrinth of unending dead ends and twisted paths leading nowhere, there stands proud in front of my window the mighty oak with its blazing-fire leaves as eyes; eyes that dig right into my soul letting me know that no matter how brief our imprint on this earth is, what we say matters, what we do matters, what we do not do matters, how we listen or whether we listen so, so matters. There is permanence in our ephemeral existence because our existence has a cause and an effect. It irreparably initiates a chain of events that will affect generations to come, whether blood-related or not. Make no mistake, a simple word of advice, a caution, a reprimand, an ‘I hear you’ can alter the course of events in a person’s life and on an on will every other person that comes into contact with them be affected directly or indirectly by that one word, gesture, acknowledgement, rejection, hate or love.

My mind cannot comprehend that it is almost two years since my parents both passed away within two days of each other. Two years. I have realised a lot of things in that time. The power that we hold to better or destroy another person’s life does not die with us. It lives on. We are spiritually connected by invisible sturdy threads to those we related to whilst living. Even in their passing that thread is maintained. It is a thread that can become weaker, but when you least expect it or when you most need it, you feel it tagging at you; letting you know there is a presence at the other side of it. Whether that presence is a welcome or unwanted presence in your life, depends on whether your bond to that person was one of reciprocal love or one of hate; one of humility or pride, one of compassion, empathy, and forgiveness or one of judgement and condemnation.

Even the dead brown leaves on the ground have a vital story to tell in their impermanence. Indeed, they feed the soil that will give birth and growth to new trees. Is it any wonder we are inextricably connected to nature, that our spirit craves its presence in our lives like our bodies crave the enveloping comfort of a roaring fire on a chilly winter’s night? The story of our life is impregnated in each leaf. And just as the leaves go on to feed life whilst dead, so do those whom we loved or despised and are no longer with us.

One word can change the course of history. Indeed, it has so many times. My word to you today is: SYNTONIZE.

It always throws me out of kilter how we live life with such breathless intensity, with such a sense of self-importance. We strain and strive to seek purpose and we convince ourselves that we are the movers and the shakers, that the entire world will cease to be, should we stop to actually take a deep breath and savour the act of simply being alive. And yet, at a moment’s notice all that relevance, meaning and feeling that we are right where we are meant to be, comes crumbling down, is pulverised when we learn about the passing of another or their terminally ill diagnosis.

I had such news about an old friend this morning, and quite frankly, I am shocked to the core. I mean, I am a fairly positive, driven person who is industrious and eager to make life better for those around me, those dependant on me, and at various stages of my life also for strangers in need. My life makes complete sense. I am on a journey, and I am increasingly aware that to every beginning there is an inherently tragic end, but nothing prepares you for the sense of weightlessness, irrelevance even, that the news of someone’s sudden, unexpected death inundates us with.

Humans are desperately born into an existential dilemma; and unsolvable equation: in order for our lives to be maximised, to garner the utmost sense and purpose, common sense forces us to become selfish, self-absorbed, limited in our sight. We choose a lane in our journey, and we stick with it, because we know a race is only truly won if we focus primarily on what is around us, if we persevere to the end. And yet, living that way equates to applying a tight blindfold on ourselves. We enter a period of denial about our rightful place in the universe, about our irrelevance when confronted with the bigger picture. Is it safe or even ethical to live any other way, though? Can we truly live if we are permanently aware and reminded of our own finiteness? Wouldn’t that be the same nonsensical behaviour as barricading our own exceedingly small window of opportunity to live in the moment, to savour every breath, every experience enjoyed or hoped for? When I heard the news of our friend who has had a severe brain bleed and whose prognosis, if he comes round, is to live the rest of his life in a vegetative state, my sense of self just went up in smoke. What is this absurd game called life that we put every fibre of our being into taking part in and winning, if that elusive higher power can just arbitrarily and abruptly throw us out of the game? What is the point of even playing if our odds overwhelmingly point to losing before we get to the end that we strived and hoped for? Numb in my kitchen in my family’s presence, time stopped, and I felt as if I were standing in front of a mirror, but I could see nothing. No before, no now, no tomorrow. Nothing, just a fleeting shadow embodying a gradually intangible lifetime. What is the point of it all if after all the striving, the worry, the suffering, the fear, we can just seamlessly go from being the masters of our universe to the dust in someone else’s journey?

The Inner Voice

Tag: Time

IF LEAVES COULD TALK!

Life is a messy affair!