Mind-Body-Spirit, a Feeling for the Quickness of Time

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

[Update April 16th 2020: Even as I write, much of Europe continues to practise social distancing in an attempt to slow the progress of the Covid -19 coronavirus that continues to spread and cause social, economic and emotional hurt across the world. Life goes on, of course, but for many,many people it will never be quite the same again. A neighbour commented only yesterday that "So many people getting ill and dying ... Time never did wait for anyone, but now ... it's taking lives and livelihoods before we barely have time to breath, never mind say any goodbyes ..." 

These are exceptional times for us all, but I have no doubt that the human spirit  - with more than a little help from science and new technology - will eventually see the coronavirus on its way albeit imposing a contradictory feeling for the slowness of time on us all. The fine example set by health and other key workers cannot be overestimated. Once everyday life resumes at least a semblance of normality, the Here-and-Now is likely to assume an even greater significance; those among us hitherto inclined to take it for granted may well feel inspired - each in his and her own way - by those same selfless key workers, to focus more inclusively on making the most of treasured personal space and a feeling for the quickness of time.]

An earlier version of today's poem appeared on the blog some years ago; another was published in the on-line poetry journal Ygdrasil in July 2004 and subsequently in my collection the following year;.

Now, I have never subscribed to the view that children should be seen and not heard; they may not always be right (and are parents?) but are entitled to a point of view that deserves to be addressed and discussed if only so that any serious flaws in it are not left to fester into adulthood.

All parents want to best for their children. It should follow therefore that they need to know what their children are thinking and vice-versa, including if not especially among immigrant families whose socio-cultural-religious background is often very different from that of the country they have chosen to make their home.

Young people often feel no one is listening to them or even wants to hear what they have to say. (Some of us have been there.) They are told their ‘betters’ know what is best for them, yet those same betters might as well have cloth ears for all the notice they take of anyone not of the same mindset. Is it not high time we all started talking to not at each other and listening to each other more…before it is too late, and time has already put the boot in?

At 70+ I sometimes feel as if my life is being fast forwarded before I've even had time to get my bearings, and invariably find myself asking, so what’s new…? All the more reason, though, to live for the Here and Now and not waste time brooding on what-might-have-been and mistakes that cannot be rectified ...

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, A FEELING FOR THE QUICKNESS OF TIME

Yesterday gone, today nearly done, 

tomorrow soon on the run from shadows

wrestling with frustration like children

sent to bed early, a lesson supposedly

for the learning, but just as likely feed us

half lies (home truths may get a look in);

trying not to feel hard done by or cry,

would rather die than show how it hurts

to be missing TV, denied PC access,

nothing left to do but call people names;

could read a book, I suppose, but who

wants to do that these days…?

Nothing like being made to feel (so) small

for speaking your mind, for we all
have minds of our own, a mistake to think
our kids are an exception...

Memories, good, bad and ugly seasons
in time, much like ghosts unable or unwilling
to come in from an existential rain,

so mind-body-spirit (for whatever reason)

inviting them in...

,

Being a kid can be a fun time, for sure,

but there's far more to it (and us) than that, 

and, yes, lots to learn, but picking up on
a few things along the way, too, but no one
imagines that learners can also be teachers
(children should be seen and not heard);
Absurd, the way adults talk over our heads,
assuming we haven't a clue, leaving us
to reach conclusions whether right or wrong
but likely to have as far-reaching effects
on a young mind-body-spirit as anything said,
done, overheard, misunderstood for better
or worse during formative years many parents
and their peers see as giving innocence 
its head, time enough for kids to get real, instead 
of letting us in on what's going on...

When I’m older, I'll show 'em I know
a thing or two where it's they haven't a clue
about what I'm doing, learning, harvesting
the bad as well as the good from never
having talked much (as a family) - teen years
all but a repeat of better-seen-than heard;
everyone fussing or arguing but one listening,
misunderstandings laying the foundations
of future years (and tears) as mums and dads
anxious to look good for the neighbours,
missing out on much of what's going on under 
their own noses, not to mention social media 
screwing us all up with fake news, bully trolls
hitting out at the more vulnerable, hiding 
behind an anonymity fooling no one, their targets
in despair, losing sleep, and worse...

Older, learning a lot of what life’s all about

(much too short to fuss over my being late home)

although (fair enough) should have called

to say so, but, what the heck...? Got home okay 
didn’t I? (Parents, eh...?

Growing old, ranting and raving at a window, 

watching the sun fade away, listening for voices 

once used to hearing say "don't" or "can't"

with "shouldn't" and "mustn't" close behind 

and "old enough to know better" a sting

in the tail because they cared, and an early night

never redefined anyone's world 

(in any language) even if we're as loath as a clock

to acknowledge a fault, tailoring time’s cloth

to fit parts we play (no carbon copy life will do); 

Ah, but would I could hear them now for real,

those voices that cared more than I ever understood,

too busy getting on with life as I saw it, deserving

my say, but (with hindsight) if turning deaf ears

and blind eyes more often than not to those who cared,

but rarely listened, and left me scarred...

Old, taking stock of past-present-future, tears falling
for their being little or no time left for dreaming

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016; 2020

[Note: Earlier versions of this poem have appeared under the title 'A Feeling for the Quickness of Time'  in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.and on the blog.]