She felt the time pass. It was as though she stood still and the time moved through her. You could see it, if you looked for a long time. It moved through and took the elasticity from her flesh and left behind a soft belly and double chin. It moved through and took her desire to party all night. It moved through and tried to take her joy.
You can feel it too, if you stand very quietly with your eyes closed and lean into it. Time passes through and takes things. It is all true, not an illusion or idea. Her body had all been replaced many times over. Time passed through and took atoms, molecules and cells and left different ones in their place.
She was mostly water. The water passed through you and it was you. The water passed through and nourished the earth. It went into the sky and refracted the light into a rainbow, then fell to become her again.
She had thought that the only lives that passed through her were her children. She remembered what it felt like, to feel them grow, and kick, and hiccup. She remembered feeling them pass out of her and look at her and connect to her. She remembered the tender passion of loving her babies. She didn't realize for a long time that all of our atoms, and molecules pass though each other. She didn't know that the earth is one organism, of which we are all part. She's beginning to understand.
And now, she wants our words and ideas, compassion and dreams to pass through each other.
She learned that she could take in the beauty around her. She learned that if she stopped and said "thank-you" to the sunrise, that the time would slow down to let her look at the fan of light as it passed though the morning clouds, and traveled to touch her face with its warmth. She learned that she could fight back when the time tried to take her joy. If she remembered to be thank-full, she could stand with one hand clenched and one hand open and the time couldn't take her joy.
She learned that when her gratitude stopped the joy was swept away, and she looked at herself and wondered why people didn't love her more, and why she was so ugly, and why people didn't do things her way, and why she could be such a creep. She wondered, when time took the joy, if she liked herself.
The time keeps moving and the joy and beauty are always passing through for her to grab and hold. And when she does, she can see the wisdom of a child. She can see cuteness in a wrinkled face. She can see the gifts hanging like sparkling jewels in the time, there for her to grasp. She can endure her suffering. She can grab more than the time can take.
She learned that she can multiply and expand the kindness, love, joy, and beauty, as it passes through her, before it flows out to the world. She learned that within the time, is a wonderful and meaningful life. She is me, and it took forty years to learn this.
Amy Jenkins RN, BSN, MS is a freelance writer and speaker, published in Cappers, The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Shepherds Express Metro, The Journal of Christian Nursing, The Christian Reader, Home Cooking, Inscriptions, MetroParent, Western New York Families and Big Apple Parent. She authored the seminar Customer Service in Health Care, and presented it to thousands through the Midwest. She is currently planning a series of workshops scheduled, September 2000 at Alverno College, Milwaukee Wisconsin. She lives in Wauawatosa, Wisconsin with her husband, children and pets.
Artwork "Pied d'a Terre" by Jeffrey Bedrick.
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