Fall
contemplations
It isn't easy making
every moment count.
My husband counts his
time in composing music. My reckoning of
time takes another form.
Having passed through an
emotionally dark period during the summer, I
prepare myself mentally for the onslaught of
seasonal greys. My eye has been keenly
aware of the waxing and waning of autumn
hues. I know that soon I will be immersed
in the monotones of winter. It is my
self-appointed task to create colour in the
encroaching sleep of winter.
Colour -- a multi-toned
form of light to brighten the eye as Paul's music
delights the ear. Threads and paint, pencils and
paper begin to define the manner of my
creativity. My mind is filled with plans
for hand-made Christmas presents in anticipation
of my visit to Florida. The assignment of
value takes precedent in my thoughts. To
make gifts, rather than to buy has so much more
meaning, both to me and my family. Acting
and creating for love takes time; meaningful time
well-spent.
Time, in its reckoning,
is a human concept. Even the structure of
our simplest movements involves time and
thought. Do we act hastily or consciously
consider each of our movements? Movements,
haphazard or deliberate, take on value.
I was raised in a culture
in which time corresponds with
productivity. To be unproductive in a given
period of time is seen to be a fault.
It isn't easy making
every moment count.
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