Saturday, February 20, 2010
Timing is everything. OK, not everything. Actually, dark matter is almost everything (or about 96% of the known universe, say the scientists who measure these things). Though, that said, dark matter, like every other physical thing, travels through time. So timing, while not everything, is pretty damn important.
You see what happens when I sit around ruminating too much? Sheesh.
My timing has never been that great. I've quit various people, jobs, cities and experiences just before something really great was about to happen. Or I've persevered in situations long after they passed their expiration date. There's such a gracefulness to knowing when to keep going, when to stop. It's a gracefulness that escapes me, that's for sure.
I can't tell a joke because of my faulty rhythm. I can remember the words, of course. I remember them exactly - but my delivery lacks that je ne sais quoi of great timing, hence when I tell a joke, people mostly blink, perhaps frown slightly and stare at me, expecting something more.
Poets and actors have great timing. And of course anyone involved in music had better be tuned in to the cosmic rhythms, or else.
I wonder if good timing has a genetic basis; if so, my DNA has a big ole blank spot where the rhythm should be. Hmmm .... Right now I'm thinking about the turning of the seasons and how to shamanically align myself with the coming of spring. Spring is a time of upswelling energy. Just like the bulb flowers and cherry trees, I would like to do some dignified, mid-life blossoming this year. But, even thinking about spring energy is premature, isn't it? It's still February for heaven's sake, and though the snow is slowly trickling down the gutters, and the angle of bright sunlight climbs higher in the sky each day, there's not a trace of upswelling energy - not yet. How can I get into alignment with something that hasn't happened yet? See? My timing sucks. Oh well.
Green light (I know, it looks blue. Don't know why.)