“Time warps: the ego forgets, the fixed edges of memory blur and fade, and the past jets forward in surprising and peculiar ways; the future has no particular image or contour.”
Murray Stein, from In Midlife: A Jungian Perspective
I can feel this ache deep in my gut every time my daughter leaves after being home for a chunk of time. She’s now a young adult and has recently embarked on adventures to far-off lands to pursue a dream. I can recall moments from when she was a small human, the very particular way she would reach up to grab my hand when we were walking together. The Friday night pizza and movie parties in bed when she was six. I remember it all in a way that time feels less linear.
Every time she takes a step forward in adulthood, I can feel how little control I actually have over so many things in life. I can feel how incredibly precious time is. And it sits deep in my belly and travels up into my heart. And then it sits there if I allow it to, and it gently cracks my heart open.
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you”
Kahlil Gibran
Time is one thing we have no control over. It’s something we have to surrender to. It teaches us how little we actually can hold onto. Like sand slipping through our fingers, we can’t stop it from passing forward.
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