Thursday, December 25, 2014

There Will Be Time

"And indeed there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street, rubbing its back upon the window panes. There will be time, there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet. There will be time to murder and create and time for all the works and days of hands that lift and drop a question on your plate. Time for you and time for me. And time yet for a hundred indecisions and for a hundred visions and revisions before the taking of a toast and tea."

                                                  -T.S. Eliot quote from the movie, Wish I Was Here

Will there be time?
For meeting?
For creating?
For indecisions and revisions?

This doesn't feel quite true, but that doesn't mean it's not.

It probably just means I'm imagining scarcity. A season of "not enough". Not enough time or money or experience. Not enough. Scarce. A fearful way to live.

Korea always feels temporary. We have no intentions of staying here forever and ever. So there's always "after Korea." There's always, "Well, after Korea we should..." but most of the time, "Oh my word, what will we do after Korea?" And I wish I could say this is a recent phenomenon, like we're just feeling this way because we might be leaving in August, but in one way or another, I've been thinking about what happens after Korea since the first day we got to Korea.

We are a hopeless species, aren't we?

"Living in the moment" has become such a catch phrase in recent years. Like it's a thing we all want to do, but usually it takes some kind of traumatic experience before any of us really do it. Being present. Being here. Now.

So, in my attempts, a song for your holiday hangover: "Details in The Fabric" by Jason Mraz.

Wishing you peace and time and abundance.