When July came upon us, I experienced a kind of angst – the year is half-over, and as I write this, July is more than half-over.
As we get older, time seems to take on wings. I heard it explained this way: to a four-year-old, one year is 1/4 of his life, to a twenty-year-old, one year is 1/20th of her life, and to a sixty-year-old, one year is 1/60th of her life. No wonder a year flies by. It is but a small fraction of my life.
While I was contemplating the fact that we have begun the second half of the year, the following came to me, written July 2, 2019.
The curtain falls on the first half, then rises immediately on the second. No intermission. No time for relief, to catch one’s breath.
On the stage for the first half: events, hindrances, appointments, meetings, studies, time spent idle, and redemptively, time spent with loved ones.
On the stage for the second: not the same, oh please, Lord, not the same.
Let the latter half be far better than the first.
Please, let me taste of the fruit of the tree of life.
Let my horizons expand in the heat of summer,
so when the cooler climes of autumn awaken me once more to the reality of winter,
My tongue will have been the pen of a ready writer and my creativity will warm both me and others.
And when the curtain falls on the second half, then rises immediately on the future, let there be no remorse, no regret; only the dawn and hope of another year.
Is there anything over which you are feeling some angst? I urge you to journal it, turn it into prose, poetry, music, dance or artwork. You will find release, and perhaps even some humour as you explore what you’re capable of creating.
Until next time,