In the human condition, the experience of “a feeling of loss” is ubiquitous: these include a financial loss, a loss in terms of a relationship or the loss of a loved one. All of these are imbued with a sense of time for it is the loss of time that is the most irretrievable. Once time is gone, it is gone forever. As Charles Darwin (1) tells us “A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.” I maintain that the secret to a healthy and meaningful life is the realization that material things can be replaced: your money, your physical beauty with exercise and (failing that) plastic surgery, etc. It is time that must be exalted and concretized: spend your time well. That being said, there can be no regrets. That time has been spent, however poorly. It is only the now, to paraphrase Eckart Tolle (b.1948) and, in my own words, the future that has true value. Try to “clear your slate” and be thankful: gratitude is also an essential component of life. A quick study of your fellow humanity will tell you how lucky you truly are.
I would like to share my own indelible moment of time, and of loss: I had a difficult and taciturn relationship with my father. His family had their fortune taken from them in the 1929 crash. (2) My father was but nine years old and he never adjusted to a simpler life; inevitably, he was frightened of money and gave it immense power. I, by contrast, grew up in a time of economic ascendancy in Canada, the country being awash with lucre, so I had no such fear. Thus we clashed and clashed and clashed. My mother protected me in my aspirations and goals, so my father grudgingly went along. But, he was a good man, a moral man and a kind man. With my mother’s proddings, he helped me tremendously, both financially and physically whenever I had a project: renovating an old house for example. Finally, at almost 85, he gave me his benedictions: he said that I was different from him, but that was all right.
Then he died. I couldn’t sleep: something was forgotten, not yet complete. One night I had a vivid dream. I was walking in a field resplendent with willowy red-blue flowers, much like a Monet painting. Trudging along a well-worn path, resplendent in my best suit and expensive cravat, I chanced upon another figure. Coming along a bisecting lane was my father, also dressed in expensive business attire. Our paths crossed. “Dad,” I called out in a rather startled voice. “Leon!” He had a massive handshake and he clasped my hand in his. He stared at me with those same steely eyes and bushy eyebrows that I remembered as a child. “Leon, they say I’m dead: do I look dead to you?” I blurted out a half-formed answer. “No, Dad. You look fine.” He surveyed my face for the truth: “Thank you, I knew at least ‘you’ would be honest,” and then he continued on his way. That night I truly slept for I realized that as long as I am alive and my children are alive, he will never die. This dream was an epiphany for me for it put life in perspective. I was to be the determinant of my reality. If I wanted to live a life rife with guilt and a sense of failed expectation, I could. If I opted to be positive and hopeful, this was also possible. My memories had to be like a large lake of clear, pristine water: always there to be drawn upon. The bad memories had to be not forgotten, but filtered. In this way their true essence could be distilled. The real weight of the excuse called regret seems to therefore be unbearable. This is obviously why it drives people mad with guilt and into alcoholism, drug addiction and the like. But the clear question is, “Who gives you this guilt?” The concise answer is, “You do!” unless, of course, you have mental or psychological problems.
In reference to time, a small aside: This week on the The Real News Network (TRNN) there was an article on Nato’s (3) current war games in Eastern Europe. Richard Sakwa, (b. 1953) a learned professor of Russian history and culture, makes the point that we are potentially forgetting the lesson of time: we are “sleepwalking” back into the events of August 1914, (4) the beginnings of the First World War. It is to be noted that the Russian novelist, Leo Tolstoy, (1828-1910) was the father of the modern-day peace movement. To thwart our serious tone, Dr. Seuss (5) leaves us with a little levity: How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?
A small joke: Mrs. Smith had two young boys. She promised that she would take them to see the circus if they were good. The one child liked to talk and talk. But after this threat, he remained quite quiet. The day arrived: At the fairground an animal trainer presented a large lion. His assistant put a stick of candy in her mouth and he instructed the animal to remove it. This the big cat did, all the while devouring the treat. The maestro called out, “Who would like to try this?” The adolescent could not contain himself. “I will do it,” he replied. “But first remove the beast.”
This week, please reflect on what the value of time means to you.
Every day look for something magical and beautiful.
Quote: It is important to remember that every day is a fresh beginning: the past is dead; the future is not yet born; only the present has life.
Footnotes
3) NATO Exercises Encircling Russia: U.S. Might be Sleepwalking into a Doomsday Scenario
5) Dr. Seuss