The Time is Here


Time Piece

Time, as we understand it did not begin until the nineteenth century. At that time, people got up and went to bed with the sun. Candlelight isn’t good lighting for reading, sewing or fixing tools. Many other people ordered their lives by the whistles of the factory or by the town clock.

People were often late by fifteen or twenty minutes. Almost everyone was late and it wasn’t considered important because time wasn’t a constant. In 1880, the concept of an appointment was developed. With the birth of “appointments” came the responsibility to be on time. Time was local and not organized.

This all changed with the advent of  trains. Trains needed a schedule. Schedules needed standardization. A schedule meant there had to be universal time.

The country was divided into time zones and it was made uniform.  In the last fifty years, our sense of time has been completely overturned. A few years ago, one received a letter, you read it and thought about what was in the letter. Then you answered it and posted the response. It took perhaps a week to complete this correspondence. Then we had faxes to speed up the time of  correspondence. Now there is social media, texting, e-mail and Skype. Instant answers are expected.

What happens to human beings when the rhythm goes faster and faster? The faster humans run, the more empty they feel. We need to slow down and rediscover our families and friends. We need to give ourselves time for ourselves. We need to go inside for communion with the Divine. It is time to find time for yourself and for renewal of the soul. It is time to take time for ourselves and our families.

An image of time.

An image of time.

My Personal Heroine, May Sarton


ritual of selfblessing

May Sarton is a woman who lived in New England. She was a writer, journalist, and poet. She has written many great novels which I have always found to be a delight to read.Her poetry sings from the heart. Her journals take you to a place when you need to think about new perceptions and to think about talking to other women. You can get her books at your local library.

Now I Become Myself  

May Sarton

Now I become myself. It’s taken

Time, many years and places;

I have dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people’s faces,

Run madly, as if Time were there,

Terrible old, crying a warning,

“Hurry, you will be dead before—-“

( What? Before you  reach the morning?

Or the end of the poem is clear?

Or love safe in the walled city?)

Now to stand still, to be here,

Feel my own weight and destiny!

The black shadow on the paper

Is my hand, the shadow of a word

As thought shapes the shaper

Falls heavy on the page, is heard

All fuses now, falls into place

From wish to action, ,word to silence,

My work, my love, my love, my time, my face

Gathered into one intense

Gesture of growing like a plant.

As slowly as the ripening fruit

Fertile, detached, and always spent,

Falls but does not exhaust the root,

So all the poem is, can give,

Grows in me to become the song,

Made so and rooted so by love

New there is time and Time is young.

O, in this single hour I live

All of myself and do not move.

I, the pursued, who madly ran,

Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun.”

to be beautifulto beyourself