[For a long time, I have been obsessed with writing (or trying to write) from the perspective of Time—as if Time were living and breathing and walking among us. It started after reading “The Book Thief” by Marcus Zusak, which follows the adventures of a young girl in Nazi Germany and is narrated by Death. From that inspiration, I’ve occasionally asked Time to take the pen and write through me. He’s written and delivered my eulogy (for a school project). He’s left me several letters scattered in notepads long since misplaced. And today, on the eve’s eve of my 33rd birthday, I asked him, once again, to make an appearance. He obliged. The rest of what follows are his words.]
I cannot emphasize enough, dear boy, that I do not much care for coming to this planet. You more than most know that I must keep a certain amount of distance from your kind to faithfully fulfill my duties. Not to mention how much it pains me to subject myself to your people’s opinions of me, which are so often terribly off-base.
Within seconds of my arrival, the weight of the false claims that it is I who heals all wounds is too much pressure for any entity other than the Maker to bear. It nearly crushes me every time. Then I must suffer the slings and arrows of others, who accuse me of unfairly taking from them everything they love. Just because I’m immortal does not mean I don’t have feelings.
And just because my station and Supervisor render me incapable of holding grudges, that does not mean certain pains do not stay with me. I’ll never forget the words of one of my favorites of your kind who made me the answer to an unflattering riddle in one of his works. I believe it went something like this:
“This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. Still though… it stung. Knew too much, that man, and I loved him for it. As one who must maintain neutrality in human affairs, I shouldn’t say that. But Light as my witness, he was loved by all the children of light that live in my realm.
It reminds me of one of your great artists who once said that eternity is in love with my creations—with the creations of Time. A remarkable observation from a time-bound creature, I must admit. But slightly incomplete. Because what he meant, of course, is that the Creator loves creators. It’s written, there, in the first sentence of your great Book. The first thing He does is create—inviting his offspring to follow suit. Your creations, then, become His creations. So, of course, He—eternity—is in love with your creations. Not mine. I am simply the shepherd that makes it possible for your potential to arrive in a land of being. And since it makes me happy to see Him happy, that is the only reason I am now writing this response to your request that I make an appearance for your birthday.
I don’t want you getting any ideas and thinking I answered because I have a soft spot for you. I am simply here to do my job, which I now feel obligated to remind you of before delivering the message meant for you.
Despite your unwillingness to take me as I come and your every effort to reverse me, speed me up, or slow me down, I must march forward ceaselessly at a steady pace. You might see it as my indifference, but I see it as fairness. I do not move forward because I do not care; I move forward because I must. My station requires that I take you from moment to moment, lingering neither too long nor too little in any spot. Only by my plodding do you learn to enjoy the fleeting moments of bliss and conjure up the courage to endure the temporary torment of something you know will pass.
One person’s moment of bliss is another’s moment of pain. While one wishes I’d slow down, another wishes I’d speed up. Sometimes the same person wishes both in the same day. One particularly observant man of your kind summed it up quite nicely: the future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. And it is my job to make sure it stays that way.
How fair would it be, after all, if I were to answer to the wants and whims of everybody who asked to be exempt from my universal rules? If you could not count on me to be consistent, how could you confidently say “this, too, will pass” as you love to remind each other?
You couldn’t. Were it not for me, none of you would bother Being at all. Nothing you love to do with what I allot you—create, dance, love—would exist without my efforts. So, in Time (LOL… get it?), I hope you’ll learn to see me not as your enemy, but as your friend. Not in the sense of the companionship you humans need, but in the sense of one who truly wants what’s best for you. The one who plays the role of moving you into the moments that are waiting for you, even when you’d rather not go and curse me for it.
But enough of my musings. The sands are running short and I must get back to my duties, so I suppose I ought to deliver my message. It will be brief. Not as profound or poetic as you’d probably like. Just short and simple. Undecorated with anything but the absolutely necessary.
And that message is this: the more you seek self-glory, the sicker your soul will get and the harder this whole thing becomes. More pressure. More disappointment. More emptiness. More anxiety. More noise.
But the more you subordinate your will and desire to the Divine, allowing the Light to pass through you unimpeded, the more peace will follow you wherever your feet may fall. No more pressure to appeal to an earthly audience. No more weight of the world. No more false fear of failing. When your only desire is to execute His, magic happens.
As an agent of His will, I’m asking you to trust me on this one.
Take your orders from above; wage war against instructions from below.
Yes, doors you thought you were meant to walk through will not open when you arrive. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a never, it might just be a not now. Your job isn’t to worry about whether or when they’ll open; your job is simply to arrive. To ask, to seek, to knock. To go where He sends thee whenever you feel His pressure. He’ll take care of the rest.
P.S. what I’m about to say I initially objected to for fear that it might go to your head, but nevertheless, He insisted I tell you: it brings Him great joy to watch you write. And as much as it pains me to say, on behalf of all children of the Light, we do too.
Keep it up, kid.
Until next,
Time.
What a great post man! I wonder how Time tell stories about me now hmm 🤔