Oh, so much

It has been too long since I've written here. The thoughts and ideas have come, but the will to set aside the time to write in lieu of other activities has not till now. Some days life seems like constant triage. A triage of constant emergencies, simple moments, or of inconsequential events; sometimes we can tell the difference. Other days seem pre-written, and we walk through them with stage directions, our places marked, well-trained actors, if not brilliant. Still others flow through us, and we through them, and at the end, we reflect that for one day we lived outside of time.

Days track with a calendar and a clock by which we've chosen to measure what we call Time. But I've walked through part of my life outside of the agreed upon precepts. Some days have more or less hours than others. Some weeks have more or fewer days. I remember a roadtrip taken with a friend to Maryland. She kept thinking we needed to get somewhere to meet someone, only to look at her watch (I did not own one) and find that very little time had lapsed despite how much we had done. She stayed bewildered by the suspension of time on that trip, until at last, she stopped looking at her watch.