The Harried Mystic

So asks the good Doctor who delighted me as a child, and grabs my attention once again, reigniting my imagination as I share his wisdom with our grandbaby Zoey.

Time is a funny thing. There’s never enough of it when there’s something we want to do or need to do. It seems time plays the hare when we are having a good time (“my, where did the time go?”) and the tortoise when we are bored (expressed by a child who repeatedly asks, “Are we there yet?” every few minutes of a long car drive).

Weekdays move slower than weekends and holidays, and vacations almost always seem to end just when we are getting into the spirit. When we are young, time stretches out before us like endless yarn. After 60, we wonder about how many yards of yarn are still left on the spool. As often as not, time seems more like an enemy than a friend.

Here’s the kicker: time itself isn’t real. We made it all up. Albert Einstein wrote: “The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.” Yet, on this side of paradise, it seems time’s passage and measurement rules! If it is an illusion, it is a powerful one.

Ushering in the New Year, we participate in the Big Countdown along with thousands of people around the world. We celebrate with music, dance, and varying degrees of inebriation, complete with noise makers and a panoply of carbohydrates. Our own personal ritual is to watch the “ball drop” in Times Square on network TV, enjoying the way the new year moves across the planet in a wave with the televised celebrations from Mumbai, Hong Kong, Hanoi, Karachi, Moscow, Athens, Berlin, London, Rio, and Mexico City. We make sure our corks are ready to be popped right at the stroke of midnight followed by calls to family and friends (at least those who are still awake).

As Epiphany approaches, I am once again reminded of the story of the three Magi drawn by a star in the East who “bearing gifts, traverse afar.” Their wondering propelled their wandering. I cannot imagine their being bored on the trip. When we are arrested by wonder, something different happens to time. It stops. While performing with certain rhythms and according to ordered patterns, the truly great expressions of artists, musicians, poets, dancers, craftspeople and singers transcend time.

Last summer, Linda and I stopped into a St. Vincent de Paul shop in Clermont Florida. Standing over in a corner was an old Seth Thomas grandfather clock. It caught my eye and was being sold for a song. The cabinet was in great shape as was the clock face. The romance of such a classic timepiece overwhelmed us and so we bought it. Getting it home, we set up the pendulum and the solid brass weights that power the movement, but nothing happened. So, I called a horologist (a master clockmaker) who stopped by just before Christmas.

This clock master, Ed, is a classy gentleman who took his time. He completely and lovingly dismantled the movement to diagnose it. He tested the chimes (such beautiful sound, the Westminster Quarter or Cambridge Quarter, derived from the chimes at the Church of St. Mary the Great in Cambridge). His diagnosis – the clock needs a new movement that he will install this month. His promise is that the clock will be as good as new and he will come prepared to tutor us in all the workings of the clock.

What stood out to me is that time flew by as we spoke. He talked about the history of clockmaking in Connecticut, the role of the Dutch, and the likely history of this grandfather clock manufactured in New Jersey. His passion was infectious. Several hours later, this craftsman became a friend.

Our time ministering to this old clock was itself precious time. Our shared wonder about time and timepieces was a moment of shared celebration about beauty and artistry that reminds us that time is a movement that rests on timelessness!

As we all celebrate Epiphany, I pray that you find moments of such timeless rapture that inspires imagination and an ecstatic dance with the sacred mysteries of Being.

© The Harried Mystic, 2018 and Br. Anton, TSSF. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.