Wednesday, July 08, 2009

erase and rewind

A funny sort of feeling, a familiar feeling, romanced me the other day as I was waiting for the subway after work. One of my favourite songs, "Reign of Love" was chosen at random by my iPhone.

The piano chords, like little waves, rolled over and over as I visited happy memories from a year ago, two years ago, five, ten... I remembered a time when I wasn't a wife, when I didn't have Andrew to confide in, to grow with, to hold. I remembered the eve of my 20th birthday, in India, when I was in a foul mood because I couldn't control time. I knew would turn 20 the next day no matter if I wanted to or not. I remembered the exact view of the white topped Himalayas the next morning from my tent flap door. I remembered the smell of the thin air. The taste of yellow curry. The dense fog in the valleys.

C.S. Lewis' theory, that "humans are amphibians - half spirit and half animal" and "as spirits they belong to the eternal world, but as animals they inhabit time" speaks sense to the lurching sensation I sometimes feel from being thrown into the future or being dragged from the past too soon for my liking. Or not soon enough.

Let me visit the Himalayas again with the understanding that my 20s would be far superior to my teenage years. Let me explore my 20s again with the understanding that the man of my dreams would be patient, kind, not envious, not boastful, not proud, not rude, not self-seeking, not easily angered, would keep no few records of wrongs, would rejoice with the truth, would protect me, trust me, hope and persevere for me.

Those of you who have seen Click will share with me the shock experienced at the end of the film when, somehow, Adam Sandler makes you cry. More ridiculous than the concept of a universal remote that controls one's universe is the idea that he fast-forwarded and slow-motioned his way through life. But, given the chance, wouldn't we all?

Is it any wonder that we worry, as I did on my final day lived as a 19 year old?
Do we not all spend the greater part of our lives under the shadow of an event that has not yet come to pass?* Is it any wonder that we desire to freeze moments in time and revisit them on occasion? Is it any wonder that we think longingly about our past and wish we had the perspective that we have now?

As the subway screeched into Dufferin station and the force of air hit me I felt doused in hope and, more than hope: joy. Joy that life has turned out far better than I could have imagined, has never been as dire as I predict, and has only big, open arms for me in the future. As long as I am forced to inhabit time I will make a friend of it.

* Maurice Maeterlinck
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table

No one can find the rewind button now

(Anna Nalick)

Reign of love
I can't let go
To the sea I offer
This heavy load

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Sarah, I have been reading your blog for about a year now. Just stumbled on it one day. I want to encourage you that you are an amazing writer....when does your book come out? :-) I am always left in deep thought or deep sighing or chuckling after reading your entries. I am a 40 something gal, a committed lover of Jesus who is continually inspired (your latest entry) and amused (raccoon story) by your thoughts and hopes and dreams put to pen. I am also grateful that you are walking out God's gift of creativity poured through you. Thank you...keep writing!