Skip to main content

June in Time

We were lucky this year: May was gentle and cool. Plenty of rain, soft breezes at night. That's over now. Triple-digit days are here, with a promise of 107 degrees in a few days. Yet, June has its pretty moments here in North Texas. My mimosa bloomed for the first time. The honeysuckle remains strong. And though I would like to extend May, I know that June takes me one step closer to Autumn, my favorite time of the year.

We can segment time on the clock all we want. We can sell 30 seconds of it to an advertiser for millions of dollars. We can waste it, use it well, or attempt to ignore its inexorable movement forward. Still, even in this digital age, time remains outside our control.

I knew a dance teacher who told his students: "There are two kinds of time: time and counter-time." As I watched the students learn their steps, I understood that even counter-time is still connected to time, still keeps the dancer in constant relationship to time. Another teacher I knew, one from India, used to end all his lessons with: "Remember: Time."

I'm remembering now. I'm realizing, not for the first time, that the only true movement is inside Time, that it is the medium we do not and cannot control. It moves along, whether we come with it or not. I realize my desire to extend this year's pleasant month of May is much more delusion than desire.

Time to watch this part of the earth bake, to see the light grow in intensity, and to welcome the relief that comes with evening and dusk. It's not May now--and won't be--until Time brings me May again, without my influence, action, or longing. Time is free of all those things, refuses all my luggage, this train that keeps moving, moving to the vanishing point I cannot see--somewhere far, far down the line.


Text and images, copyright Ysabel de la Rosa, 2010, All rights reserved.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Adventure to Anarctica this Spring

You're invited to my friend Robert Greeson's exhibit of images from Antartica. Enjoy the other-wordly beauty and wonder of this part of the globe in perfect, central-air comfort. I bet they will even have refreshments on opening night. Don't miss it!

Saturday, March 27
7 to 10 p.m.
Kettle Art Gallery
2714 Elm Street
Dallas, Texas 75226

Children welcome!

Metaphors that Lie in Wait

I just finished a driver's ed course to "make up" for a speeding ticket. I earned the ticket, fair and square. I was driving on one of those streets that, dog gone it, just feels like a 40 mph street instead of a 30 mph street. I'm not glad I got the ticket, but I am glad I took the course-- for reasons both practical and metaphorical.


In 1984, an 18-wheeler truck rear-ended my 2-door car while I was stopped at a red light. Despite wearing a seat belt, my body was thrown far-forward, and when it came flying back into the seat, my body's impact broke the car's seat. I was fortunate. The trucker was without his cargo that day. Otherwise, I might not have survived the accident. Even so, the injuries I did sustain changed my life forever. The tennis matches I planned to play with my son never happened, and I would never again leap gracefully in a ballet class. The experience taught me a lot about how quickly life can change, and how much change one traffic acciden…

A Cat, a Dog, and Shakespeare: The Perfect Sunday Afternoon

One reason I keep paying a cable bill is to be able to watch Turner Classic Movies. I had just finished a batch of Sunday chores and was resting a moment on the couch, wedged between Chatterly the cat and Gypsy the dog (an Australian Kelpie), and saw that TCM was about to air Julius Caesar, directed by Joseph Mankiewicz, and produced in 1953. 


I read Julius Caesar for the first time when I was in sixth grade. It was a great time to read it, because it seemed fresh and real to me, even though some of the centuries-old English was challenging. 


The movie made me wish that Joseph Mankiewicz had directed more of Shakespeare's works for cinema. The balance the movie strikes is oh, so totally just right. It does not go so far into cinematic territory that we lose the work's theatricality, but travels far enough by camera that it provides a sense of seamless reality only a movie can create.  The casting was brilliant.  James Mason was at his best as Brutus, and he carries the film on h…