To find the words
to sense the rhythm of life
is to slip away
from habits of a lifetime,
to sway to new melodies
in the moments
of each passing year
to sense the grace of our age.
“Sometimes when I am writing,
I am aware of a rhythm, a dance, a fury,
which is as yet empty of words.”
~ Stephen Spender, poet
(1919 ~ 1995)
Combining it all,
all the bright moments,
the clouds over the sun,
the yin and yang of it all,
we look back
on a day
or a year
and see only moments.
scattered and watery,
in colour or black and white
for memory is like that
elusive and ever changing.
“The ocean takes care of each wave till it gets to shore.”
~ Mawlana Jalai- al-Din Rumi, The Essential Rumi
There is time ~
there is always time
a glide
so soft and quick
not slow
nor fast
nor even steady,
life exists in the moments
that surround us.
How did you feel
the flow of time yesterday?
“I blinked my eyes
and in an instant,
decades had passed.”
~ John Mark Green,
Last the Wild Wonder: Poems
This is a moment when
memories tug at my heart
begging me to tell their stories.
Stories of the first day
trying to ride a bicycle,
of all dressed up for
the first day of school,
of the brick wall of that
school where we bounced
rubber balls with white, blue and red
raced each other on
a sliver filled teeter totter
Skipping ropes - Double Dutch so much fun!
Hop Scotch on the sidewalk at recess
Swinging on seat polished swings
Each of these moments
of fun tucked away in my
heart for a moment for story.
“As long as there are memories, yesterday remains.”
~ Billy Joel
Talking is a journey
with friends through
yesterdays
onto future dreams
Never orderly but burbling over pebbles of moments
with a good wade through
shallow waters of today.
“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…
It has no survival value; rather it is one of
those things which give value to survival.”
~ C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
Along the fence line
between day and night,
the minutes and moments
of the day drift and pile up
against each other til
they brush through
to ripple and colour
the landscape of dreams.
“For what one has dwelt on by day,
these things he sees in visions of the night.”
~ Menander (c.342 ~c.292 BCE)
Translated by Francis G. Allinson 1921
When I arise in the morning,
or even when I dutifully date
the page in my journal,
do I think to myself.
“Oh, that means I have 24 hours before I do the same thing all over again.” I can’t think that far ahead unless I mark up my calendars. I do have a wall calendar, and all the tech-y calendars.
I mark each square with
the next dental appointment or birthday.
But most days are made up of the time
it takes to do anything, or walk to the store.
Regardless, all these moments
never fail to add up to 24 hours
~ every single day.
“Every day is conquerable by its hours, and every hour its minutes.”
~ Robert Breault, musical artist
Every day moments slip by me as easily as snow falling. Even in the midst of a
conversation about much loved dogs or cats, the latest block buster or how to cook a
delicious omelet. If I rely on memory to put a pin in each moment, I may be
disappointed. Some moments
do remain, but for how long,
no one can say.
‘Staying in the moment’ is curious
because moments melt like snow
landing on my nose. I just get up
and wash the dishes or wade through
the snow to the lake, talk on the phone,
or settle in with a good book.
‘“What day is it?” asked Pooh.
“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
“My favourite day,” said Pooh.’
~ A.A.Milne
Recall of moments from the tender ages of toddler or adolescence are mere scraps
that can no longer be proven even by others that may have been present. They would
have been taller or shorter; not interested in what you thought was interesting and it
probably was of great interest. You, as a toddler, wouldn’t have been
annoyed but the delicate ego of
your adolescent self would have been
bruised. You have precise recollection
of that as well. Sometimes excellent
recall is not all it’s cracked up to be,
but at least your ego has recovered.
“Memory is never pure. And recollection is
always coloured by the life lived since.”
~ Josephine Hart, film writer
(1942 ~ 2011)
blossom quietly
to vanish in an instant.
“Enjoy the moment. You won’t have it again.”
~ Frank Sonnenberg, The Path to a Meaningful Life
Horses led the way with jingling bells
clop, clopping past parked cars and trucks
puffs of steam from soft noses
bearers of families and friends
warmth brushing agains each other,
strangers in a moment of fun and wonder.
“We do not remember days, we remember moments.”
~ Cesare Pavese
Iron Horse Wedding Carriage and Wagon Rides
McLean, Saskatchewan
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