10 Pounds and a Chunk of Nothing

This week saw me shed some ten pounds in under twenty-four hours.  Without nary a fever or otherwise symptom my innards basically completely shutdown.  It may be obvious but it was not the most pleasant twenty-four hours I have spent at home.  And even some three days later I am still wobbly on my feet as I replenish myself on rice, bananas and live-culture yogurt.  Yumsers.  All this time staying near to the home facilities, as it were, gave me a lot of time to myself.  Actually, it gave me a lot of time period.  Maybe even too much time for this über-introvert.

What did I discover?  Not much really.  At least, no great revelations.  I wish I had something more poignant to write about.  I wish even more I had something deeper to admit to cogitating upon; I do not.  I merely sat and saw time slip past me.  I imagine it is the lack of calories and lack of exercise but these past days have been wrapped under white linens bedecked with a trine of pewter-heavy candlesticks: trouble, fear and ironically soothe; my only guest Time.  In its eminent presence so manifest I felt more my place best on a silver platter being served than serving as host.

Time is not to be mastered.  Even when we try to marginalize it as a “resource”, we can neither refine it or store it or do anything with it other than spend it as quickly as we receive it.  Without it our world of causality falls apart and we return to the eternal, timelessness of an existence so many believe they want but I suspect would be driven mad upon achieving.  Time is maybe one true tonic against the insanity of godliness.  Time flows past us till we become the weary, the worn.  The well-lived?  For some this process can eat us out, husk and whole.  For others it seems to not diminish but instead fill us with a life’s memories, not mere ghosts to haunt and taunt but truly spirits who bring with them the merry whispers of yester laughs.  I wish I knew tomorrow or Tomorrow but I do not.  I do know that I am now some halfway through my life.  And so writ, I wonder how I shall see the coming years: as hollow or hallow?

Author: Ward

I’m the creator and operator of this little corner of the internets, writing on all things related to art and more specifically my experiences trying to figure this whole thing out. I guess I’m trying to figure out life, too, but mostly I just post about art here.

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