“The Trouble is You think You Have Time”

not-enough-time
Photo Courtesy: Pablo

Familiar faces fade away
(Or, do they?)

‘Oh, there’s time. Enough time.’
Promises, Whispers, Thoughts-
Mere words that float by.

Dusk is falling, my friend, and
“The trouble is
You think you have time.”

(-Snigdha Deka)

dusk is falling
Photo Courtesy: The Soul Searcher

We must have often come across the phrase “The trouble is you think you have time” by Jack Kornfield.

These words are massive and they ignite endless thoughts. We reflect on them today. And we almost forget tomorrow.

But time stands there, looking over you, ridiculing at your foolishness.

Let us remember our corporeal selves. Let us honour our bodies and our being. Let us realise that we are not going to stay here for eternity.

And then, let us cherish each day of our life as if it were the last and the best of all. Let us promise less and work on them more.

Let us argue less and love more.

You want to tell your loved ones you care for them, go tell them today. Care for them when you can.

You want to start your dream project, go do it already.

Do not keep planning. Time will beat us eventually. So, just dive in.

just dive in
Photo Courtesy: Pablo

There are no closures to certain events but here, in search for one, I still share a poem by Maya Angelou with you all.

When Great Trees Fall

-by Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.

give time
Photo Courtesy: Pablo

My fellow soul-searchers, this post is

In memoriam of dear ones lost.
In memoriam of the promises left unfulfilled.
In memoriam of the times that beat us.
In memoriam of the memories made.
In memoriam of the thoughts unsaid
.

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Author: The SoulSearcher

The writer is a research scholar in English literature, an avid reader and sucker for life philosophies

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