Detail Writ Large
Time like a stream, a flowing aggregate of small bits and pieces, details
of a life lived, a life made of glances glimmers notions motions…a life
created anew each day…risen from the remnants of the day before.
We compare time with time itself but not today; yesterday and the day
before and before and before, looking for differences, looking for
those remnants and pieces and bits of ourselves and others.
The details that we fear, writ large, the ones overshadowing the whole, they
are small insignificant things that we believe feel trust fear can control our lives…
can block the light of reason and cast shadows of doubt across what we believe.
We choose to hold time or let time flow but it is one or the other…it
will always be here or there, now or then and we can see it, feel it, have
it attached to us but never a part of us and watch it flow through us.
Today I may choose to believe that details should be details and that life should be
life and that the mundane boring silly droning lights on dishes left sitting
should be annoying but are only that…vague scribbles in the margin of a very long book.
Tomorrow I may choose to read the scribbles and toss the book because it is
the casual details that tell the story, that point toward the truth…what will I feel having
memories in my head of scribbles and details…while having lost the book?
Memories are choices once made once contemplated once grieved over…once
dismissed as irrelevant or revered as important…to be the pieces or bits in the stream, to be
the remnants in the stream of time from which we arise each new day.
I am asked, I must think that these memories will either be details or will be life but
they will be my bits and pieces; what will make me new each dawn, make me who
I am and I prefer to be life living loving being big and flowing not…