The restless arrow.

February 18, 2017 § 4 Comments


If I were to represent our species with a symbol it would be an arrow. The direction of the arrow is unimportant; that changes quickly and often.

The important thing is that an arrow is going somewhere with all possible haste. And so are we.

Our existence is made manifest, validated, and given importance by how quickly we fly toward a destination.

But the goal, once we get there, is not a steady state, not a resting place. The arrow will move on, taking aim at another target, another must-get-to place it will fly right past, hesitating just long enough to check the accomplishment off the list.

Then onward!

arrowsWe aim for “there,” but “there” never becomes “here.”

“There” is a moving target, so we spend our lives in transit.

The sense of arrival is fleeting. Few rest on the laurels of a goal achieved, few rest, period.


I figure things out as I write, and looking at that last sentence I see I inadvertently revealed another side of the arrow-flight that is human endeavor.

We equate arrival with rest. And what is rest for?

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Navigating time.

November 24, 2014 § 3 Comments

IMG_0689I like Mondays.

As a fiction writer, that’s easy to say.

I make my own hours.

If I want, my Monday can act like your Saturday  (although usually my Monday and Saturday both come down on the Monday side of things).

But it isn’t Monday’s work-week baggage or rep I’m responding to, it is the newness, the feeling of a fresh beginning.

Give me a Monday and I have a whole new week in front of me!

I feel the same about New Year’s Day—squared.  A new year is a snowfall no one has yet tracked with footprints, a blank page begging a story.

I know the markers we pin to the twisting ribbon of time: today, tomorrow, Christmas, three o’clock are human conveniences.

We measure time so we can coordinate our comings and goings—imagine planning a committee meeting if we had no common Tuesday or 10 AM—but how we perceive and manage the passage of time is personal. « Read the rest of this entry »

How to slow…time…down.

October 4, 2010 § 5 Comments

I felt as if I was standing in a cloud of gnats–buzzed by emails, phone calls, the internet, and  the expectation that I could keep up with everything  happening everywhere, and respond with the appropriate sympathy, indignation, joy, or sorrow.

In the constant barrage of information/stimuli/requests for my immediate attention I strove to move ever faster, assuming a defensive posture, as if covering my head with my arms, and I kept going.  But the faster I ran, the faster time sped, until I woke one morning wondering if anything fit into a day anymore, even something as modest as forming a coherent thought.

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