The Holy Thorn and the Tor, Glastonbury, painted by Tony Steele
There are berries growing on the hawthorn at the bottom of my garden. A week or so ago, they were the May blooms wreathing the hedgerow and summer had barely begun. Now, the first berries of autumn are already swelling; berries that will feed the birds through the lean months of winter. What we call time is not bounded by the neatly labelled segments of day, month or season. It is a continuous flow. We break the passage of time into bite-sized pieces; the concept of eternity is too vast for our minds to grasp. It seems that sometimes things must be broken before they can be understood.
Shattering what is
A necessary evil
Enabling new growth
The seasons are my teacher
Each dawn a promise of hope
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
I think our human brains can’t understand how liquid time is. I love the way you describe it here. We need to compartmentalize it, as in Seasons, as well as hours, days, weeks, etc. Only when I meditate (and practice yoga) do I sometimes release the constraints of that.
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I wonder how much of that is due to our inability to genuinely conceive of a time without ‘us’. Human history is not too difficult to grasp…it all leads up to the point of our becoming, but the thought of an eternity in which we ‘are not’, is one the ego will shy away from.
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Someone once said reality is only this moment: the past is memory and the future is imaginary.
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I maintain that to be true.
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English summer, what a delight. Lovely poem, Sue.
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Thanks, Robbie. We do have summer at the moment 🙂
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Lovely, Sue. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Thanks, Suzanne.
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It amazes me every year how green the world can get. (K)
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All year round here, thanks to the rain 🙂
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We are breaking to some kind of core, to expose the truth. I love this, Sue.
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Thanks, Pamela. Breaking down is as much a part of life as building, I believe.
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