Timely Rhythms

Each day I listen as the church bells ring. The vibrations of ricachetting metal, reverberating through the air until they meet the very fibers that bring me sound deep within my ear. The raspy clanging, marking yet another half hour in what has become a seemingly endless array of moments in time patched together by familiar noises, shapes, and spaces. 

The birds chirp at all hours of the day. Even deep into the night I can hear their chatter, as if some of them just don’t want to sleep despite it being sundown. I can relate. Their singing soothes me as I watch the world come alive in its subtle way. It’s so easy to miss when you are rushing, doing, going. Always going. The birds are neither here nor there, they are everywhere. All around the world, making their voices known. Each singing to their own tune. Collectively united under one term glossing over all the complexities that individualize them. Bird.

My cats curl up with me, unplanned or scheduled. They are the masters of being, and so I watch attentively to understand. It’s simple, they say with their eyes. Resting in a ball, calm, cool and collected. Witnessing the passing of time but not entirely of the realm of time. Allowing pets when desired, and other times scoffing away as they instate their boundaries. 

I am working to relate. To release the grips of time, and simply immerse myself in what is. To allow love in but to respect myself enough to know when to leave or draw the line. To reaffirm my needs, my wants. It seems to be an art, an art of time.

Without a clock ticking or a schedule mandating where to be, it’s easy to feel off rhythm. To feel untethered or ungrounded. But then I think about how long humans lived separate from these man made tools. How long we beat to the rhythms all around us and within us. How we developed tools to track that time, but in it we lost the very connection to its source.

I notice the birds rising awake in the mornings darkness. The sun begins to show in the close distance. The sky fades from black, to navy blue. From navy blue to light blue. From light blue to white. The presence of light on what was just moments ago dark. Light, awakening each being for another day.

In this light, I hear the creaks of the floor in my house. The subtle movements of other beings awakening. Coming to life in the light, slumbering out of their caves. I hear the shifting of chairs. The sighs of energetic release. The fridge opens, time for a feast. I hear movement outside, distant but familiar. The rushing of few cars, like ocean waves. Humans all around, unseen, but felt. Rolling, washing, retreating, rhythmically whirring.

A stroll in the neighborhood allows for some space. Unattached to items or even a place, I exist. Walking, running, skating, skipping. Taking in the rhythms of time all around me. I see children playing, families interacting. I see dogs walking. Flowers blooming. Gardens coming back to life. People sitting outside. People sitting inside. I smell wet pavement after days of rain. The neighbors put up a new sign, what does it say? 

After some time things seem to dim. The sun and earth move, reinviting darkness in. Long sleeves and blankets, I wrap myself with comfort. In the darkness things feel still. I welcome it, learning more and more to find time to be in it. Stillness. It feels new, but more so long known and forgotten. 

I am remembering. Before there was doing there was being. Free were the days when I existed without a notion of time. This is the state I arrived in. As I grew I learned ‘time’ externally, to help guide my days. But at some point it shifted, becoming a ruler rather than a friend. 

I now know what I have always known to some degree. Time can join the ride, but time will not steer the car. Time happens regardless of if I name it, or how I track it. Time just is. And I just am. And rather than working against the ticking time, I will allow its beats to inspire each foot forward as I carve my path. Rhythmically dancing to the measures of time in every piece around me.

Clocks won’t set me free, but nature just might.