Benched Week 93: what time will tell

 

Time is a curious thing. It’s so changeable. Sometimes the clicks of the clock are like ants marching in a long line. Then suddenly, a moment will soar skyward, giving us a dizzying bird’s-eye glimpse of the span of our lives.

This happens often when I read my old journals. Present Me coexists in the same instant with Younger (and often Clueless) Me. But this also happens when I reconnect with long-lost friends – something I’ve been doing a lot lately.

Here I am with my long-lost childhood friend, Paul. He’s just one of a half-dozen of old friends who have recently stepped out of the past with a warm embrace. Each one has handed to me precious reminders of who I was. And perhaps, still am.

Which brings me to my bench. With a suitable compression of time, I return to the photos I took a month ago in a park outside of Washington, D.C. where I discovered two interesting visuals -- metaphors of the past.

On one modern bench lay a wilting bouquet of roses. It was startling to see such luxurious red in a drab landscape.

And nearby, another bench…

…gave me a view of the stone foundations of a farmhouse.

This is the time of year when I take time to reflect on recent history. I love that we have a reset button in our calendar, when we all give ourselves fresh starts. As I use my bird’s-eye view of the past year, my hope is to celebrate those glorious, yet fleeting, moments and successes – the memories of which fade like the bloom of roses. And to find those rock-solid lessons on which I can build.

That’s the challenge. Cherish the good of the past. But never stop building. Keep creating. Constantly grow.

Celebration and anticipation. Looking back and looking ahead.

For me, for now, the best vehicle for that dual perspective is the visual journal I’ve been keeping for the past year. In some ways, it is the outlet for my personal creativity I’ve searched for on all these benches.

For though it slowly fills with memories, every day starts the same way: with an invitingly blank page. And like the time remaining for each of us, blank isn’t simply the absence of content.

It’s the presence of unlimited possibility.

Time to get started!