Time is such an elusive phenomena. I glance at my arm and see wrinkled skin where 'a few moments ago' it was young and smooth. I remember a mother-in-law's lament of dry skin, thin skin that tore easily. While I have been preoccupied with emotional recovery, my skin has aged. Time. Is it real or only imagined? A mirrored face is older, but the eyes are the same that looked back at the 15 year old in 1962. The soul reflected through those eyes feels the same, does not recognize the passage of what we call time. So does the world age? or only our bodies? Is time only a perception? Why does my soul feel ageless when inevitably my body will die? My skin will cease to be. Will shrivel as my body exhales a half-breath to inhale no more. And love -- where is the love promised? Expected. Wanted. Is it in the children? While I rush to meet man-made deadlines for economic purpose, the elusive Time steals my passion for life ... for painting to leave something of me here when I am gone. It is time to be selective about Time. It is time to be selective of how I spend this day. Time is only now. There is no tomorrow.
Quote for the day, "Lord, help me accept the trials in my life and see your goodness." -- Mary Brown