When you think of the concept of "time," what comes to mind? Usually it is schedules and deadlines and rushing around! But there’s another perspective . . . think of mountains, oceans, rivers, ancient trees, those things of this world that suggest words like "eternal" and "everlasting." For we know the whole concept of time is our idea, not our Creator’s, and that there is no such artificial construct in eternity. Even if we have to schedule it by this world’s idea of time, we can step into that stream of eternity at any time by going within, entering the Great Silence. There we become part of it, and while we are there time no longer exists. Turning inward, becoming part of no-time, refreshes us and often colors our perceptions so that when we return to this world of deadlines and time constraints, we are more able to "go with the flow" and view our world with new vision.
Take time to play . . .
it is the secret of youth.
Take time for friendship . . .
it strengthens the spirit.
Take time to think . . .
it is the source of power.
Take time to dream . . .
it hitches the soul to the stars.
The end of time will not come like people think. Time will end in Light because it began in darkness. Time will end when humanity accepts eternity as its home . . . when people understand the true meaning of peace so they can choose love over fear.
What a gift is the recognition of our multiple streams of time! Most of us have had some experience of breaking out of the monochronic monotony of one-thing-afteranother. Time flies; time crawls or stands still. We regularly experience the spectrum of party time, hanging out time, condensed time, wasting time, scheduled time, falling in love time, anxiety time, creative time, borning time, dying time, meditation time, timeless time. Ecstasy and terror have their own temporal cadences, and in high creative moments as well as in mystical experience, the categories of time are strained by the tension of eternity.
The things of time are in connivance with eternity. There is a greater comfort in the substance of silence than in the answer to a question. Eternity is in the present. Eternity is in the palm of the hand. Eternity is a seed of fire whose sudden roots break barriers that keep my heart from being an abyss.
The Navajo teach their children that every morning when the sun comes up, it's a brand new sun. It's born each morning, it lives for the duration of one day, and
in the evening it passes on, never to return again. As soon as the children are old enough to understand, the adults take them out at dawn and they say, "The sun has only one day. You must live this day in a good way, so that the sun won't have wasted precious time." Acknowledging the preciousness of each day is a good way to live, a good way to reconnect with our basic joy.
How many oceans have vanished in sand, how much sand has been prayed hard in the stone, how much time has been wept away in the singing horn of the seashells, how much mortal abandonment in the fishes' pearl eyes, how many morning trumpets in the coral, how many star patterns in crystal, how much seed of laughter in the gulls' throat, how many threads of longing for home have been traversed on the nightly course of the constellations, how much fertile earth for the root of the word: You -- behind all the crashing patterns of the secrets You --
The present moment is where life can be found, and if you don't arrive there you miss your appointment with life. You don't have to run anymore. Breathing in, we say, "I have arrived." Breathing out, we say, "I am home." This is a very strong practice, a very deep practice.