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Time, Flowing Like a River
Time, flowing like a river
Time, beckoning me
Who knows when
We shall meet again, if ever
But time keeps flowing
Like a river to the sea
Jumping into the warm pool yesterday, I felt like I had stepped into a stream which had stopped. This was the grip of a moment…a moment I knew would slip through my fingers as all do, but sat freeze-framed for the split second of the day. Two hundred and fifty years of American history conduced to July 4, 2026, then moved on in time’s rushing waters.
It is a rare event to have all of my siblings in one place and rarer still to have their loves and their children there alongside our own children and grandchildren. But time struck like lightning to produce such a confluence on Independence Day 2026 and it felt magical. In a flawless day of warm sunshine, food, and family, we had a chance to revisit history and future simultaneously, embracing new marriage, new engagements, new babies, and old memories.
My day was marked by “do it again, Poppy!” and the wrinkled fingers and toes that come with hours of pool time. What is it about throwing small children into the water that is so life-giving? My parents glowed as they hosted all of their children and nearly all of their grandchildren – four generations together in the smallest possible area able to contain so much life.
Glancing at our two Godsons, now men, I thought of the time and the moment, wondered briefly about their future, then surrendered it to the invisible flow that would carry it on. Yesterday held itself in its own moment, remaining ambivalent about such musings, and demanding the presence that concentrates all faculties on that which was sitting, or swimming, directly before me. For a moment, we could just be in the moment.
Looking at the picture above, already an instant family classic, the moment looms large above that river of time. The horizon stops at pool’s edge and anything beyond is left to itself, unencumbered by uncertainty or wonder. The collective vision seems to say, “Tomorrow will be what it will be. For the moment, we’ll be here, fully now.”
And now, the demands of the day return. The clock has started ticking again and on we must go. Always on. And that’s ok. The moment is made precious in its passing. It cannot be stored, saved, reloaded, or relived. Only our memory holds it now, forever accruing the benefit of its existence as a warm place in our soul.
What a gift.
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By Phillip Berry | Orient Yourself
5
55 ratings
Time, flowing like a river
Time, beckoning me
Who knows when
We shall meet again, if ever
But time keeps flowing
Like a river to the sea
Jumping into the warm pool yesterday, I felt like I had stepped into a stream which had stopped. This was the grip of a moment…a moment I knew would slip through my fingers as all do, but sat freeze-framed for the split second of the day. Two hundred and fifty years of American history conduced to July 4, 2026, then moved on in time’s rushing waters.
It is a rare event to have all of my siblings in one place and rarer still to have their loves and their children there alongside our own children and grandchildren. But time struck like lightning to produce such a confluence on Independence Day 2026 and it felt magical. In a flawless day of warm sunshine, food, and family, we had a chance to revisit history and future simultaneously, embracing new marriage, new engagements, new babies, and old memories.
My day was marked by “do it again, Poppy!” and the wrinkled fingers and toes that come with hours of pool time. What is it about throwing small children into the water that is so life-giving? My parents glowed as they hosted all of their children and nearly all of their grandchildren – four generations together in the smallest possible area able to contain so much life.
Glancing at our two Godsons, now men, I thought of the time and the moment, wondered briefly about their future, then surrendered it to the invisible flow that would carry it on. Yesterday held itself in its own moment, remaining ambivalent about such musings, and demanding the presence that concentrates all faculties on that which was sitting, or swimming, directly before me. For a moment, we could just be in the moment.
Looking at the picture above, already an instant family classic, the moment looms large above that river of time. The horizon stops at pool’s edge and anything beyond is left to itself, unencumbered by uncertainty or wonder. The collective vision seems to say, “Tomorrow will be what it will be. For the moment, we’ll be here, fully now.”
And now, the demands of the day return. The clock has started ticking again and on we must go. Always on. And that’s ok. The moment is made precious in its passing. It cannot be stored, saved, reloaded, or relived. Only our memory holds it now, forever accruing the benefit of its existence as a warm place in our soul.
What a gift.