Tag Archives: time

eyes

some moments are so beautiful

they melt

like I do

when you see me

like that

 

 

David Trudel  © 2014

 

 

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Truck Parade

Here in Victoria, one of the more curious Christmas traditions has got to be the annual truck parade.  The local trucking industry gets together and has a parade of festively decorated trucks crawl along one of the main roads out of town to one of the suburbs where they are part of a charity event.  Along the way, the drivers keep up an incessant honking of horns, mostly of the basso profundo variety, punctuated by the odd siren or two.

Tonight, my after dinner walk started with a close encounter with a raccoon, who quickly shimmied up a tree to stare at me eye to eye. Interspecies communication is perplexing sometimes, as it was tonight, so I rambled on. Soon enough the silence was broken by the distant cacophony of the trucks.  The noise the horns produce can be described as charmingly obnoxious, kind of annoying but at the same time endearing, in a folksy kind of way.

Like most of the northern hemisphere we are experiencing cold weather but tonight the clear skies more than made up for the frosty temperature.  The night sky was absolutely stunning, considering that the hill rests at the edge of a modestly sized provincial capitol. Tonight the stars shone bright against the void, only slightly dimmed by a not quite quarter moon and the carpet of lights that defines the urban environment. Hilltop views at night are awesome wherever you are. Here on the edge of the Pacific Ocean we also have the benefit of having some of the cleanest air on the planet, which adds to the overall experience. I digress.

So I was at one of my favourite vantage points, staring out past the lights of the city, looking over the horizon to people I care about and places I love and places I’ve never seen, looking up at the sky at a swirl of starlight and I pondered the antiquity of each twinkle. All the while the truck drivers pounded their horns, blasting random bursts of sonic energy or leaning on a note like a tightfisted preacher.

It was sort of annoying and distracting but I tried to let it roll through me and over me.  I looked into the archive of creation, the distant stars and galaxies and whatever lies beyond and the honking of the horns prompted me to understand that all those distant lights from long ago must have been accompanied by epic noise.  Those tiny lights all represent enormous explosions of energy and matter and somewhere those sounds still reverberate. At that moment I was able to transcend my annoyance with the intrusion of honking horns by using them as proxies for the symphony that accompanied the creation of those distant lights. For a moment, a brief moment, I heard the music of the spheres.

 

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Serrated Time

Time has serrated edges today

For me

Time is ragged

Each moment ripped and torn

No clock can track the imprecision of subjective moments

I no longer wear a watch

I have no need to watch mechanical time

Because each moment is not like each other

Time isn’t to be measured

Locked into precise compartments of predictability

Creating an artificial display of flawed equality

No, time flows

Like a river around obstacles

With increasing velocity when it floods

It’s fluid

Time is subject to currents and eddies

Time is personal

My moments are strung like pearls

On a broken chain

Rolling across the floor

To rest where they may

 

 

David Trudel       ©  2013

 

 

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Healing Time

We get wounded just by being, here

On this plane where we never know quite what the other thinks

So we dream words into imagined conversations

Then forget they weren’t real

Until our fantasies are shown up by reality

Our thin skins sliced open with razor-wired passive aggression

We get wounded because we’re human

Subject to gravity

But we forget we can’t fly so we fall

We believe in the magic that surrounds us

Until the spells no longer work

Leaving us open to what we call accidents

Usually the inevitable consequence of careless actions

Since we’re human

We are subject to disease

Carried internally or randomly caught

We get wounded by our bodies and onslaughts of germs

Microbes and infections take their toll

So that good health just means dying as slowly as possible

And when time heals

As it sometimes does

Sometimes the prescription is simply death

Transcendence from here to there instead of some miraculous repair

But time does move for us

And moves us from one state to another

Even if change isn’t exactly healing

We learn to live with our scars and amputations

Our reduced capacity and limitations

But what if time itself is sick and needs healing time

Does time heal its own wounds I wonder

Or is there some other soporific that puts time to sleep

Into a zone where rules no longer hold sway

Where timedreams shimmer like northern lights skydancing

Where metronomes lose their precision

And fluidly count the beat of nothingness in the void of eternity

Sinking into the interminable stretch of hospital time

Where minutes and hours co-exist in some quantum contradiction

Providing healing time for time

At least temporarily

Since time is its own chronic condition

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

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Slow and Easy

Slow is not always easy

Being a measured suppression of an instinctual rush

Slow requires attention

An analysis of action

Breaking down steps that turn to stumbles with hesitation

Worrying a natural sequence of fluidity into uncoordinated jerks

So if you want me slow

Forgive me for being a jerk

Who finds it hard to flow with the slow but goes down easy

And if I stumble down the steps of indecision

Lend me a hand to help me up, slowly

That’ll be attention enough

So hold me slowly and I’ll forget to rush

Until slow becomes vertical

And time ceases to have dominion

Sliced like specimens to be viewed under a microscope

Instead turning into crystal clear waters of creativity

Flowing wherever it needs to go

With unmeasured speed

So let’s take the easy way out

Not worrying about limits or conventions or expectations

But trusting instincts that flow naturally not slowly

Easing into the future

Easily

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

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Dark Solstice

This darkened day

Limps into the light

Barely illuminating the gloom’s respite

But still, this is no harbinger of doom

No era ending kibosh on us all

Still here, still keeping on

We wait for tomorrow’s promise

Of the evermore and early dawn

As this day pivots on its quarter pole

Releasing the passing of this dark passage

Through space and time

To climb once more into the light

One step forward

One foot dragging

But moving out of shaded gloom

Into the comfort of the sun’s delight

 

David Trudel  ©  2012

 

 

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Timeless

A million years seems like a long time

For mortals

Yet in the Timeless Valley time twists

Turns in on itself

Becomes unraveled

Irrelevant to the magic of merged souls

Pulled into orbit from across celestial horizons

Not into a collision but a reinvention of the world

Transcendence to the sublime

No more waiting, outside of time

 

David Trudel  ©  2012

 

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