The year seems to fly by so fast. The years seem to collect so swiftly. And yet April 15 is such a long time ago. We visited the landscape place to buy plants around May 1, and so much has happened since then.
We gave the plants a new home, and they thrived (or didn’t). The days grew longer and warmer, and now they grow shorter and warmer. Soon they will grow shorter and cooler, but gradually, slowly.
A day is a long time: Look how much we did yesterday. There’s no need to despair about how fast time is passing; time passes at the same pace always.
The day that seemed so long when we were children is still just as long. There is still time while you have the breath and the consciousness to do what you set out to do.
A life is a collection of these long days stacked one upon the other. Some towers prove to be shorter and smaller than others. Yours is not as tall as some and not as short as others. But within each day is the time to make the difference you intend to make – or at least the time to try.
And in the trying is the root of the doing. Push through the muck and the formlessness, and the form will finally appear. Sift the gold-filled waters and the nugget will shine through.
A day waits to be seized! Reach out your hands and close your fingers. There. Was that so hard?