I can’t believe “Forrest Gump” came out 16 years ago. It really seems like yesterday. If you don’t know what I’m talking about… well, then I suppose I just dated myself.
I’ve been complaining a lot lately about how busy life seems to have gotten over this past year. Busier than ever. It seems like the more I try to get a better grip on my calendar, the less control I have over it. A strange phenomenon, indeed. If you’ve been near me in the recent past and had to listen to my whining… I apologize. Sincerely. No matter what people say, though, I do not like being busy. I’m generally not a task-oriented person, I’m finding out lately. Sure, I’ll get things done, and do them well, and I value work and know it’s a necessary part of life. But deep within my nature, I prefer to be free from the constraints of time because well, I like spending time. Lots of it. With people. With my self. I like looking up at the sky and noticing a bird flying in the air and taking special note of a profound lyric in a song and watching a squirrel nibble on an acorn and starting on a 1,000+ page book and listening to other people converse and walking slowly through busy streets of the city and hearing the long version of someone’s story and listening to one song on repeat and eating a piece of super dark chocolate slowly and crying with someone in pain and drinking a cup of coffee one little sip at a time and getting lost while practicing a song and staring off into the distance and watching an older couple sitting together at a park bench and thinking really hard about how to make a line sound really good in a song and noticing a baby in a carriage who makes eye contact with me and seeing a dog-walker with 8 of the cutest dogs one will ever see in life.
And that doesn’t even include anything “task-y” that I do regularly.
As the years pass by, I feel an ever increasing tension between life and time. Ironically, they are intrinsically connected and yet I keep trying to separate the two. I have an overwhelming desire to live outside the confines of time only to be unfortunately reminded that I can never escape it. I know my days are numbered. I know this is a limit I must embrace. But does the limit of time have to be imposed on all of life?
All that to say, I feel trapped. I feel trapped in a world that structures experiences around beginnings and ends. I feel trapped in a world that imposes a narrow view on time well spent and all else, a “waste”. I feel trapped in this limited world, in my limited body, in my limited surroundings and family and friends and neighbors and institutions and everything else.
I suppose that’s why I’ve always loved Superman. He has no limits. Well, except for kryptonite.
Oh, and love.