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PRELUDE:
A couple of days ago, I received an email from a dear friend who lives in Iran…
We exchange emails from time to time...
A couple of days ago, I received an email from a dear friend who lives in Iran…
We exchange emails from time to time...
To keep in touch and to share experiences, thoughts and ideas…
In her email, she spoke of a recent visit to the city in which we all went to grade school…
From the way she described it, I gathered that she hadn’t been there for quite a while…
From the way she described it, I gathered that she hadn’t been there for quite a while…
Describing her observations and feelings, she eloquently wrote the following in the simplest and cleanest way anyone could:
“… Here in Mashhad, it seems that time has stopped. It felt as though life here is in slow motion! Everything is nearly the same as I left it… Exactly the same as they were when we were children; the only thing that has changed is me…”
As I read this part of her email, vivid thoughts and images rushed through my mind which I will share with you today…
M.G. – Thank you for inspiring me.
“… Here in Mashhad, it seems that time has stopped. It felt as though life here is in slow motion! Everything is nearly the same as I left it… Exactly the same as they were when we were children; the only thing that has changed is me…”
As I read this part of her email, vivid thoughts and images rushed through my mind which I will share with you today…
M.G. – Thank you for inspiring me.
She nervously looks at herself in the tall mirror…
Checking every detail of her hair and makeup…
She twists her waist and neck in opposite directions-with her left leg solidly and firmly holding its position while her right leg twists with her the same way a golfer’s leg twists at the end of each swing-for she is trying to see how her back looks in this backless dress…
Checking every detail of her hair and makeup…
She twists her waist and neck in opposite directions-with her left leg solidly and firmly holding its position while her right leg twists with her the same way a golfer’s leg twists at the end of each swing-for she is trying to see how her back looks in this backless dress…
She is in her mid fifties…
But she looks damn good for her age…
But she looks damn good for her age…
The backless dress, high heels, her hair raised, exposed neck, and the heavy diamond studded necklace that is now adorning her, have all given her an aura of elegance that causes her to be pleased with what she sees before her…
Suddenly...
She stops...
As though distracted by a troubling thought…
Her fingers instinctively trace the strands of her diamond necklace that has been in her family for generations…
A gesture that acts as a key to a gateway…
Connecting her with her past…
Her fingers instinctively trace the strands of her diamond necklace that has been in her family for generations…
A gesture that acts as a key to a gateway…
Connecting her with her past…
She recalls the first time she saw her mother putting the necklace on…
And she remembers how she desired and wished that she too could be as tall, elegant, and beautiful as her mother…
And she remembers how she desired and wished that she too could be as tall, elegant, and beautiful as her mother…
She recalls the day of her wedding…
And how it was the first time in her life, that she, truly felt as tall, elegant, and beautiful as her mother…
And how it was the first time in her life, that she, truly felt as tall, elegant, and beautiful as her mother…
And today…
The day of her own and only daughter’s wedding…
The day of her own and only daughter’s wedding…
As she looks at herself…
With character lines engraved permanently into her face…
With strands of grey hair garnishing her head like ornamental silver strands…
She sees herself as child…
Standing in the doorway…
Admiring her mother…
With character lines engraved permanently into her face…
With strands of grey hair garnishing her head like ornamental silver strands…
She sees herself as child…
Standing in the doorway…
Admiring her mother…
She sees her daughter…
As she has always seen her…
The adorable, freckled face, two year old, with two pony tails…
As she has always seen her…
The adorable, freckled face, two year old, with two pony tails…
She becomes teary eyed…
And a single teardrop escapes and races down her cheek…
As she quickly reaches for a napkin to wipe off the tear…
In fear of running her makeup…
In fear of running her makeup…
She sighs…
And she utters: where did the time go?
And she utters: where did the time go?
At the same moment…
Straight down the hallway…
Two doors down to be exact…
A seven year old boy…
Dressed in a full tuxedo with slightly oversized sleeves…
Paces in front of a tall mirror…
Practicing his walk...
Dressed in a full tuxedo with slightly oversized sleeves…
Paces in front of a tall mirror…
Practicing his walk...
To him…
It feels as though he has been cooped up in this room for days…
Each passing minute...
It feels as though he has been cooped up in this room for days…
Each passing minute...
Feels like an eternity…
He can hear the clanking of the grandfather clock’s giant pendulum in the hallway…
And he is certain that the clock must be faulty and in need of repair…
For it seems that clanking sounds are too far in between…
As though someone clicked a remote and put everything in slow motion!
And he is certain that the clock must be faulty and in need of repair…
For it seems that clanking sounds are too far in between…
As though someone clicked a remote and put everything in slow motion!
He looks down at his brand new, shiny and slippery black letter patent shoes that his mom helped lace up tight…
And he practices his walk…
Right… together… left… together…
Right… together… left… together…
He has been practicing this walk for days now…
And he is still...
And he practices his walk…
Right… together… left… together…
Right… together… left… together…
He has been practicing this walk for days now…
And he is still...
As nervous as the day he started…
This damn walk is not natural to him…
And he knows with an uncomfortable degree of certainty…
That he will not get it right…
This damn walk is not natural to him…
And he knows with an uncomfortable degree of certainty…
That he will not get it right…
The heavily starched shirt and the tight collar…
Make him itchy and fidgety…
Every thirty seconds...
Make him itchy and fidgety…
Every thirty seconds...
His fingers reach between the tight collar and the skin of his neck…
And stretch the collar as he bobs his head from side to side…
Trying to loosen what seems to be chocking him to death…
Ever since he arrived with his parents…
Everyone they passed told him how cute and adorable he looked…
But as he looks at himself in the tall mirror…
He hates how he looks…
He hates the fact that he was forced to comb his hair…
He never combs his hair…
And stretch the collar as he bobs his head from side to side…
Trying to loosen what seems to be chocking him to death…
Ever since he arrived with his parents…
Everyone they passed told him how cute and adorable he looked…
But as he looks at himself in the tall mirror…
He hates how he looks…
He hates the fact that he was forced to comb his hair…
He never combs his hair…
I look like a grown up midget in this stupid outfit… He utters to himself…
Why did I have to insist to be the ring bearer?
What was I thinking?
Why couldn’t I just be out there playing in the grounds with the rest of the kids?
Why did I have to insist to be the ring bearer?
What was I thinking?
Why couldn’t I just be out there playing in the grounds with the rest of the kids?
He asks himself...
I hate this wedding…
I hate this outfit…
I hate this place…
His thoughts are disturbed abruptly…
As his mother enters the room enthusiastically...
And announces that it is time to go…
It’s show time my handsome little man...
Weakened at the knees…
And feeling queasy and nauseous all of a sudden…
Weakened at the knees…
And feeling queasy and nauseous all of a sudden…
The last words that he utters…
Before his mother hands him the silver silk pillow with the two shiny rings tied neatly on its surface…
Are…
Before his mother hands him the silver silk pillow with the two shiny rings tied neatly on its surface…
Are…
Why does the time go by so slowly?…
I wish time would pass faster so that this thing could be done and over with….
…
Two people…
Same moment in time…
Same place…
Same event…
And yet…
Two completely contradicting perceptions of time!!!
Throughout our lives…
We have been taught and conditioned…
To treat time as an absolute…
A quantitative, scientific means to measure the distance…
Between heartbeats…
Between sunrises and sunsets…
Between seasons, as nature sheds one skin for the next in a predictable and repeated succession…
Between births and deaths…
But is it really?
Is time indeed absolute?...
Is time indeed absolute?...
I submit to you that time is neither absolute, nor is it “equally” quantitative and measureable to all of us!!!
I further submit to you, that time is rather "qualitative", and that it is purely based on the perception, view, and the experience of the observer!!!...
This simply means that events are not fixed points in the time continuum…
And that they are not ruled by the movement of the hands of a clock, seconds, minutes and hours…
Instead...
Instead...
They drift through the space of our imagination and our perception of reality; and are triggered by other events and not by time!!!
When you return to your small hometown after decades…
And find the trees, streets, buildings, the sounds, and the smells to have remained unchanged…
When you walk into your old neighborhood convenient store...
And find the trees, streets, buildings, the sounds, and the smells to have remained unchanged…
When you walk into your old neighborhood convenient store...
And find the same old kind man who sold you candy and ice cream...
Standing behind the counter as he did twenty years ago…
Wearing the same old worn-out apron...
And greeting you with the same smile as he did when you were but a child…
When the aromas emanating from dried fruits, roasted nuts and spices tingle your nostrils...
Wearing the same old worn-out apron...
And greeting you with the same smile as he did when you were but a child…
When the aromas emanating from dried fruits, roasted nuts and spices tingle your nostrils...
Exactly the same way they did when you were barely tall enough to see the content of stacked burlap bags filled with goodies…
You know that although time has indeed passed…
The speed, effects and consequences of it vastly vary from your vantage point and perspective!!!...
…
Imagine a large painting…
A painting in which a busy city square is portrayed on a cold Sunday…
Or..
Imagine a painting in which the hustle and bustle of busy bazaar or flea market is captured on a warm summer Wednesday…
Are you there?
Can you see all the people, merchants, gestures?
Can you see people walking hurriedly, standing and talking to one another, haggling, ...?
Can you see the children playing?
Can you hear the mother peering throught the third floor window and calling her son to come up and wash up for lunch?
Good.
Now place yourself somewhere in this painting…
Click the play button of your imagination and bring this still image into life…
Just like resuming a movie after you had paused it…
You know that although time has indeed passed…
The speed, effects and consequences of it vastly vary from your vantage point and perspective!!!...
…
Imagine a large painting…
A painting in which a busy city square is portrayed on a cold Sunday…
Or..
Imagine a painting in which the hustle and bustle of busy bazaar or flea market is captured on a warm summer Wednesday…
Are you there?
Can you see all the people, merchants, gestures?
Can you see people walking hurriedly, standing and talking to one another, haggling, ...?
Can you see the children playing?
Can you hear the mother peering throught the third floor window and calling her son to come up and wash up for lunch?
Good.
Now place yourself somewhere in this painting…
Click the play button of your imagination and bring this still image into life…
Just like resuming a movie after you had paused it…
You see it?
Now...
Now...
I want you to stop the movie…
And remove yourself from the scenery portrayed in the painting…
Make yourself an observer instead...
And remove yourself from the scenery portrayed in the painting…
Make yourself an observer instead...
Standing in a museum or an art gallery, looking at this painting…
Hit the play button one more time…
If you have been able to follow this exercise...
If you have been able to follow this exercise...
Exactly as I instructed you to do…
You will notice that when you hit the play button and let the painting come to life…
What you see in both scenarios…
Is exactly the same!!!...
This, is a painful pill to swallow at first…
But it makes us realize how inconsequential and how insignificant we are (as individuals) when compared to the larger scheme of things...
You will notice that when you hit the play button and let the painting come to life…
What you see in both scenarios…
Is exactly the same!!!...
This, is a painful pill to swallow at first…
But it makes us realize how inconsequential and how insignificant we are (as individuals) when compared to the larger scheme of things...
And in the progression of life and time....
This profound lesson reminds us that “most” of the things that we occupy ourselves and our minds with on a day-to-day basis, are really not important, momentous, or substantial at all...
The things that cause us stress and anxiety…
For the most part…
Aren't really that important, critical, or significant after-all...
Our time is indeed far too short...
This profound lesson reminds us that “most” of the things that we occupy ourselves and our minds with on a day-to-day basis, are really not important, momentous, or substantial at all...
The things that cause us stress and anxiety…
For the most part…
Aren't really that important, critical, or significant after-all...
Our time is indeed far too short...
And what really, truly matters, is the "connection" we make with others…
Strangers whom we meet for the first time...
Strangers whom we meet for the first time...
Our friends…
Family…
Loved ones…
And lovers….
Those connections are truly the only tangible proof of our existence...
They are our legacy!!!...
Assuming that you agree with my hypothesis…
The question before us...
Then...
Is not how long we live…
It is rather, how we will live it!!!
Family…
Loved ones…
And lovers….
Those connections are truly the only tangible proof of our existence...
They are our legacy!!!...
Assuming that you agree with my hypothesis…
The question before us...
Then...
Is not how long we live…
It is rather, how we will live it!!!
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