Through The Wings of Time

Tags

capturing time, continuity, Eden, melting clocks, mitochondrial DNA, past lives, perpetual motion, quantum, time, time-travel, timelessness

The Persistence of Memory (Spanish: La persistencia de la memoria; Catalan: La persistència de la memòria) is a 1931 painting by artist Salvador Dalí, and is one of his most recognizable works.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Persistence_of_Memory

 

 

This is a re-post of a flash story first published on the Harper Collins, Authonomy Blog.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, Everyone!

 

 

One second more or less, will that make me richer or poorer in time? Yet, I happen to know decisions made in a split second, or perhaps, an incident that could occur in that time frame have the power to change  everything. I try so hard to capture or speed up time, but it has its own pace despite my wishes.

So, I dip into time and try to exercise timelessness. Schrodinger’s Cat in my mind, I go to places my limited intelligence cannot comprehend. The heart does, and gives me directions into my past lives beyond my current third dimensional reality.

I’m a pagan girl at a time not recorded in history. I go to Göbeklitepe and dance to the tune of songs, sung by the pilgrims who come to the temple to worship nature, its flora and fauna. Surrounded by huge columns, with birds and animals carved into their ancient stones, I make offerings to the Gods and thank them for my blessings. A soldier takes my hand, puts a wreath of flowers on my head. We leave the temple and he takes me to his tent in the nearby hills.

Time changes. I’m in Africa, by the river Nile, crying tears of sorrow for my beloved Pharaoh. He has been taken ill and my life is at a standstill. All the medicines in the world cannot cure his ailment. They have poisoned him. There’s no antidote. His child in my belly, the heir to be born. I’m their next target, once my beloved is gone. I cannot leave him on his own and run away yet, but I know a nomad village where my child and I will be safe.

I delve into Ramayana, in the temples of Bali, and run to the sea where I wash my soul. I go to India and swim with my friends in the waters of Ganges, continue to Nepal and become the lady who ages as she descends the mountain in The Lost Horizon.

A courtesan in the Ming court. A Japanese geisha in love with Shogun. An Aborigine girl around Ayer’s Rock. A Maui singer in the Pacific, and a Polynesian who falls in love with a white man in Tahiti. I move on to the Island of Maui and see the volcano erupt in Hawaii. Many perish, but I’m saved by the fishermen. I make my way to the Americas.

Inca, Aztec and Maya, I play ball in the courts of Chichen Itza. I move down south to Bolivia and Peru, and let the wise people guide me through their knowledge and magic revealed in the books of Castaneda.

I go on to Europe, move in the courts of Arthur, Ferdinand and Napoleon. Sometimes I’m a slave, sometimes a heretic they must burn, a princess, a courtesan, a peasant, a revolutionary or an ordinary wife, struggling to raise a family. My Harem days in the Ottoman Court, come with a big return. I’m the mother of the Sultan’s second heir to the throne.

Does time whisk me back or thrust me forward? In Eden, I meet my great, great, and I don’t know how many times great, Grandmother sitting under the apple tree. She’s weeping, but there’s still love in her heart for me because I’m her great, great, and I don’t know how many times great, Granddaughter. The invisible ties of my mother’s mitochondrial DNA bring me to my origins. She hugs me and I fall asleep, weary of my travels.

I wake before my alarm-clock goes off. I rise and look in the mirror. I see so many faces I do not know. I blink and rub my eyes. They disappear. I watch my reflection watching me, and ask, “Who am I?”

 

Timeless

Tags

a new dimension, body-clock, human notion, loss of time, melting clocks, perpetual motion, time, time-slave, timelessness

 The Persistence of Memory (Spanish: La persistencia de la memoria; Catalan: La persistència de la memòria) is a 1931 painting by artist Salvador Dalí, and is one of his most recognizable works.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Persistence_of_Memory

 

 

I have lost my connection to time,

what others do at certain hours of the day

makes no difference to me at all.

I would appreciate to receive the same courtesy,

so please don’t come knocking on my door

with meaningless trifles and requests at your convenience

and raise eyebrows when you see me in my nightie

I’m not sleeping, I’m working,

I don’t need official clothes for this job

Just because I don’t do the things you do

on your schedule

doesn’t mean I’m idle

I don’t sleep during the hours you sleep,

I don’t dress at the time you do

I have more important things than that,

to me that is, not the world,

I don’t make money for my toils

I do it because I want to

Like you, I was a time-slave once, for a long time,

then it ended and I decided not to return to that premise

Maybe that’s why my clocks stopped working,

except my body-clock that never needs repair,

my watches also suffer from stress,

perhaps there is a message there.

 

I know about the cycles of the moon and

the rotation of the world around itself and the sun,

and the notion of days, months, seasons and years,

to me this is stale news,

it happens regardless of me.

I cannot stop it, so I ignore it and

let it be.

 

I’m living in my own dimension now,

free of standard time and its demands

I have stopped worrying about who will pay me back for time

I lost flying over the Pacific,

or to daylight saving

as far as I’m concerned those are pardoned debts I have written off.

 

I’m in a timeless zone now,

between daylight and night,

and what I do inside that zone

of perpetual motion,

is entirely my business.