MS and "The Art of Passing Time"

Over ten years ago, I embarked on writing a series of poetry called "The Art of Passing Time" with my girlfiend at the time. We dreamed of creating an artsy, black and white film that conveyed our philosophy and ideas about relationships. She was the "idea man" and I was the writer. Over time, the project morphed into a poetry series and long after we parted ways, I kept writing the poems.

In a nutshell the art of passing time was as follows:
We are in a universe adrift,
Always seeking connections--
The only constant is change,
But we long to pause time,
Pause time, just breathe.
It is possible to connect with another human being
Without artifice or pretense.
Time can be borrowed and shared.
All that matters is the second we are in--
We take the instants we share and treasure them,
We do not try to possess the other,
The memories linger long after we part...

While these ramblings form the basis for the art of passing time, my vision of time has morphed as I have grown older and experienced more things. In yoga, I always ask my students to ground themselves in the present, to enjoy the moment. This is a personal journey. It's not about connecting, it's about enjoying this space in time, whatever it holds.

I think MS has fundamentally changed my view of time. Before I was sick, I never really recognized my own mortality. It seemed that I had forever to arrive at some phantom destination (usually an ego-driven, concrete goal). I would achieve my goal and then feel deflated. I was hounded by time, always trying to crowd more tasks into the day. I rarely stopped to breathe and I was really stressed out about time. In fact, I was obsessed. I would have given almost anything to freeze time...

Although haunted by time, I would never shrug off responsibilities to make more time for the things my heart yearned to do. MS irrevocably altered me. I almost died in the beginning... When this really hit me, everything became different. I found myself greeting the sun every day. I was teary-eyed in my gratitude to still be alive. I realized, and still do, that every additional day I live is a gift. This realization changed my whole attitude about time. I slowed way down. I took on fewer things. I took more time for myself. It took a long time to adjust but now I think I am better for it. Now, "The Art of Passing Time" has new significance for me.

I am reading a book called It is amazing. I almost feel like the author took all the ideas that have entered my head since my diagnosis and spilled them out onto paper. I have a renewed determination to finally finish and publish my poetry collection. I can feel my attitude towards time shifting. This comfort with time is bringing me new peace and I find my heart is full of joy.

Today I am grateful for my place in time.