The unfathomable losses...the suddenly gone...the pain of missing...time as trickster. Insects, animals, trains, landscape, all proxy for people. A beloved dad gone before his time. Grandchildren who keep growing and changing--how dare they? Oh Sydney, what a gift your memories are, whispered on the page. I am listening, ravenous for more. My favorite book? Steve Leder's "The Beauty of What Remains"--until I read your essay today.
Having recently turned 60, this resonates so eloquently with me. The passage of time seeming to increase its velocity with each passing year. My favorite line, “No wonder some nights, days, weeks, months seem so brief they’re gone before they start.”
In my 20’s - 30’s I remembered exactly what I’d done on any given holiday or birthday or where I was the year before. Now the years blend together and what seems like 3 years ago, is actually 10!
Thank you for your insight and beautifully written words.
We octogenarians may have a different sense of time than those younger, not only because we know we're closer to the end of our time but also because our memories have little to do with age and a lot to do with love. Regardless how old or young we were when something of significance happened we added it to our storehouse for remembering. It's like a four-story house with many rooms on each level, one level for each 25 years and now, here we are on top floor. We can take the elevator, or walk down, to any level and retrieve some rather amazing stories, of loves lost and gained, and how we can go back to the top and make the most of living for today.
Beautiful, Sydney! Your ability to capture the value of memories as we age is priceless. Thank you for sharing. It gets my week and my day off to a good start. I don’t feel so guilty for living so much with those “things that remain.”
Sydney's poetic outline in how the frame of "time" changes as we accrue years is so moving, so accurate (in my experience as a 80+er), so eleganted written, and generously shared. Thank you, Sidney....you are not alone.
Like Sydney, a train whistle evokes a time and place for me. Even living in an isolated farmhouse where nights were pitch black dark I can recall hearing a train in the distance as a connection to the outer world. I also related to looking at life from the standpoint of the dogs We have owned and loved and lost. Beautiful meditation.
The vastness of space suggests the vastness of time, each second precious — a year to something — we a second to something else. It is a gift to live long enough to sense this surely.
At 79, I've set out to allow myself to ruminate on mortality as much as I care to.....feeling that it's the appropriate subject matter for my last years. It doesn't seem right that the human condition.....transcience...should be frowned upon as a topic for contemplation. I also cherish very specific moments of beauty and clarity. My most precious involves sitting on a bench at twilight with my mother towards the end of her 99 year long life. The cerulean blue of the sky was the perfect setting for beginning my goodbyes to her.
This is beautiful and sad and joyful, all at once. Thank you for sharing this, now the little bee has the opportunity to live on in many different minds. Our individual minds are indeed transient, but by writing out your thoughts, they may have the opportunity to live forever. In "Damascus Nights," Rafik Schami says, "My friend, only writing has the power to move a voice through time, and make it as immortal as the gods." You have wonderful memories, thank you for sharing your trips through your personal times.
Sydney, you write of "a honeybee ... caught between one of our windows and a screen." Approaching 79, that's what I feel like at times. Thank you for this poignant, evocative meditation.
These reflections on life were told with a wise calm, and yet, I also felt an urgency pulsing underneath-- a call to notice and appreciate while I still have time.
New to this magazine and tho i try not to grab the debatable iphone first thing, this morning im glad i did because my day now started with Sydneys exquisite pondering of this staggering experience of TIME...im in the midst of my own pondering, wonder and overwhelming sorrow amidst the joy of it all with a solo show called THE UNExPECTED 3rd.. A Radical, Rollicking Rumination on the Optimism of Staying Alive.. and i want to say greetings to you my felliw traveler in exploring and sharing the complexities and daily confusions and proceeding of it all.. Onward warmly Kathryn Grody
The unfathomable losses...the suddenly gone...the pain of missing...time as trickster. Insects, animals, trains, landscape, all proxy for people. A beloved dad gone before his time. Grandchildren who keep growing and changing--how dare they? Oh Sydney, what a gift your memories are, whispered on the page. I am listening, ravenous for more. My favorite book? Steve Leder's "The Beauty of What Remains"--until I read your essay today.
You have truly made my day, Susie.
Having recently turned 60, this resonates so eloquently with me. The passage of time seeming to increase its velocity with each passing year. My favorite line, “No wonder some nights, days, weeks, months seem so brief they’re gone before they start.”
In my 20’s - 30’s I remembered exactly what I’d done on any given holiday or birthday or where I was the year before. Now the years blend together and what seems like 3 years ago, is actually 10!
Thank you for your insight and beautifully written words.
We octogenarians may have a different sense of time than those younger, not only because we know we're closer to the end of our time but also because our memories have little to do with age and a lot to do with love. Regardless how old or young we were when something of significance happened we added it to our storehouse for remembering. It's like a four-story house with many rooms on each level, one level for each 25 years and now, here we are on top floor. We can take the elevator, or walk down, to any level and retrieve some rather amazing stories, of loves lost and gained, and how we can go back to the top and make the most of living for today.
Well said indeed, Gary!
Beautiful, Sydney! Your ability to capture the value of memories as we age is priceless. Thank you for sharing. It gets my week and my day off to a good start. I don’t feel so guilty for living so much with those “things that remain.”
Sydney's poetic outline in how the frame of "time" changes as we accrue years is so moving, so accurate (in my experience as a 80+er), so eleganted written, and generously shared. Thank you, Sidney....you are not alone.
YOU are the one to be thanked. What a shot in the arm, yourecomment!
Like Sydney, a train whistle evokes a time and place for me. Even living in an isolated farmhouse where nights were pitch black dark I can recall hearing a train in the distance as a connection to the outer world. I also related to looking at life from the standpoint of the dogs We have owned and loved and lost. Beautiful meditation.
Thanks for the kin d words, Christine!
Beautiful. Ben scritto.
So, at 85, I live in the moment, capture it, like the transient experience with that bee. And thus I appreciate what I have, for now.
The vastness of space suggests the vastness of time, each second precious — a year to something — we a second to something else. It is a gift to live long enough to sense this surely.
Thank you for your reflections.
This is lovely. Very poignant and apt to me at 79….
At 79, I've set out to allow myself to ruminate on mortality as much as I care to.....feeling that it's the appropriate subject matter for my last years. It doesn't seem right that the human condition.....transcience...should be frowned upon as a topic for contemplation. I also cherish very specific moments of beauty and clarity. My most precious involves sitting on a bench at twilight with my mother towards the end of her 99 year long life. The cerulean blue of the sky was the perfect setting for beginning my goodbyes to her.
Your own reminis cence is very moving, Susie. Thanks.
This is beautiful and sad and joyful, all at once. Thank you for sharing this, now the little bee has the opportunity to live on in many different minds. Our individual minds are indeed transient, but by writing out your thoughts, they may have the opportunity to live forever. In "Damascus Nights," Rafik Schami says, "My friend, only writing has the power to move a voice through time, and make it as immortal as the gods." You have wonderful memories, thank you for sharing your trips through your personal times.
Thanks so much for reading approviong, Jeannine.
Sydney, you write of "a honeybee ... caught between one of our windows and a screen." Approaching 79, that's what I feel like at times. Thank you for this poignant, evocative meditation.
So glad it resonated with you, Elena.
What a great piece that truly reflect the passage of time as we age... luckily I'm aware and fully present of its passing. I appreciate every moment.
That's the road to something resembling peace. Thanks!
These reflections on life were told with a wise calm, and yet, I also felt an urgency pulsing underneath-- a call to notice and appreciate while I still have time.
I look forward to exploring Sydney Lea's poetry.
So glad it struck a chord!
New to this magazine and tho i try not to grab the debatable iphone first thing, this morning im glad i did because my day now started with Sydneys exquisite pondering of this staggering experience of TIME...im in the midst of my own pondering, wonder and overwhelming sorrow amidst the joy of it all with a solo show called THE UNExPECTED 3rd.. A Radical, Rollicking Rumination on the Optimism of Staying Alive.. and i want to say greetings to you my felliw traveler in exploring and sharing the complexities and daily confusions and proceeding of it all.. Onward warmly Kathryn Grody
Kathryn, I’m so happy to have you here! 💝
This is so moving and beautifully written. Thank you!
Dear Dian: I'm grateful that you took the time to say so! All best.