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Midsummer's
Night
Midsummer's
night - the solstice. Under
nearly a full moon I'm contemplating
the endless cycles of our lives.
Birth, death and rebirth. Sin
and forgiveness. The rise and
fall of the sun and the moon.
The coming of each new day,
regardless of how dark the night
before. Every moment of every
day a simultaneous ending and
beginning, a multitude of cycles
within cycles within cycles.
This world is alive like a river,
always changing and constantly
in motion, and yet confined
within predictable patterns
- the return of the spring floods,
the rise of the tide. Old is
new, new is old. It all just
is.
Set
against this paradoxical mix
of repetition and regeneration
are our own artificial divisions.
Minutes, hours, days, weeks,
months, years. We break down
our worlds into manageable
units - which car was I driving
then, who was my significant
other, how long was my hair?
We section it off - grade
school, high school, college.
We are constantly quantifying
our lives in some misguided
attempt to understand ourselves
better. There was my rebellious
teenage years, my long-haired,
hippie college days, the period
where I tried to fit in with
the real world, then my musician
phase.
Yet
in making our divisions, we
tend to focus only on lynch
pin moments, not realizing
the complicated cause and
effect that lead to those
events. A tree branch may
snap in a heavy wind, but
it's never that simple. How
many other wind storms have
weakened that branch, was
there disease in the tree,
had there been a drought the
year before? What if the wind
had been a little less? What
if it had hit the branch at
a slightly different angle?
Perhaps
that's the fundamental flaw
in how we view our world.
We see our lives as linear
- having a beginning and an
end. Our past is behind us,
the future before us, and
we exist solely in the present.
People come, people go. Never
look back. Keep moving forward
down this straight line to
the end.
But
the reality is that our lives
aren't even remotely linear.
While events may have happened
in the past, we carry those
wounds and lessons with us
every day, shaping us, making
us who we are. The past is
alive in us every single moment.
I am the person I have always
been, and regardless of what
phase I was in at any give
point in my life, the actions
I've taken are still mine.
The ancient waters of the
river carve a deviant path
and the waters for decades
to come will follow this new
course. And yet the river
is still the same - flowing
in a familiar bed. Past and
present all mingled together
with no real division.
And
the future is equally as malleable.
Our dreams and aspirations
are set before us like distant
objectives, and yet even as
we hold them in our consciousness,
we change our course ever
so slightly to reach them.
Like a sailboat on a long
east-west crossing switching
its destination port 100 miles
to the north. The change in
its heading will seem miniscule
at the time of the decision,
but gradually that change
will become significant. Tack
a half a degree over 100 feet
and you won't know the difference,
tack it over 2000 miles and
you'll know it. So while our
future may seem like a distant
horizon, the very nature of
contemplating it affects our
present reality.
Past,
present, future - all coexisting
in the here and now. All equally
as real and vivid. All indistinguishable,
even while set against the
patterns of the universe.
The seasons come, the seasons
go. Daylight glows, daylight
fades. We perceive birthdays
and anniversaries, births
and deaths, joy and pain.
It's one simultaneous symphony
of experience, emotion, and
action.
Never
look back. Don't dream about
the future. Learn your lessons
and move forward. And yet
what so many fail to realize
is that there is no forward.
Nothing is ever behind us
or before us, it's all around
us all the time. Learn your
lessons - yes. But implement
your lessons with equal parts
future, present and past.
Do to otherwise is to deny
the very nature of our existence.
Midsummer's
night - the solstice. Under
nearly a full moon I'm contemplating
the endless cycles and the
constants of my own life.
Like the faeries of medieval
days that would mingle with
mortals on this hallowed night,
I am surrounded with the spirits
of all that has happened,
all that is happening, and
all that could come to be.
Every moment I have lived
and I have yet to live is
alive in this room, alive
on this night. All my sorrow
and pain, all my mistakes
and victories. I'm dreaming
of the future, reflecting
on the past and trying to
focus on the things that matter
most - then, now and forever.
All was, all is, all will
be. Always.
This
column © 2000 Lee Totten
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