Tuesday, June 29, 2010
That Perfect Hour
That Perfect Hour. Right about now: Around 10 or 11 among the evening hours. I can spin and focus and whirl and posit all day long. I can be so accomplished, I can achieve so much during the daylight hours. Or, I can waste the day not knowing what to do or not even considering such a thing - just letting the day pass me by. Regardless of how tired, annoyed, productive, independent, chained, or useless I've been all the live long day, by early evening, say 6 or 7, I feel worn and weary, having been at the mercy of things external to my soul. But, then as the hours grow later and darker, somehow at least some of the energy I'd lost, I'd released, I'd burned along the daily way... returns to me. No matter how tired I am from the trials of the day, I find myself contemplative, quiet, and yet so very awake at this hour. It's at this time of day I believe I am my best, my most true, my most - in general. Ideas lap over me like waves, colors and sounds inspire me, language strikes a chord within me. A night owl, some would say. Even though the day is nearly at its close, there is something large and yet quiet in the personal, real time. It is precarious, though; alas, the world, as usual, imposes its schedule on me, so this eveningtime-springtime is inevitably shortened, inescapably limiting the heights I can reach, at least for today. Tomorrow beckons, and lest I be all too useless to face it, I must go to bed in the coming hours before my mind is fully ready. Maybe that is why I always have such vivid dreams.
"And it's time, time, time that you love. And it's time, time, time." Tom Waits, "Time."