August 30th, 2013
So I got to talk to my little brother Tanner for a good hour or so today. It was so much fun to just talk, whether on sports, his latest book, the impending first day of school, or friends. I was also eating chicken curry and so I, of course, was in a fabulous mood. And after sitting on my kitchen floor, in front of my only air-conditioning unit, watching RWBY trailers I decided to begin my next essay. I've been married for almost two months and it's been incredible, so I felt like it was about time to write about it. At first, I had decided not to talk about getting married because I didn't quite know what to say. Spencer and I had known one another, progressing from friends to dating to engaged and finally marriage, for two years. Each summer was spent abroad, first him in Jerusalem and then me in the United Kingdom, and because of these difficult and worthwhile periods of separation we've accumulated quite a few letters. But there is one letter in particular that I am thinking of that he wrote, not while one of us was abroad but, right before we got married. In his first sentence he used the phrase "the center of time" and ever since having read it I can't seem to shake the idea that this phrase is significant so I once again decided to write an essay about what it feels like, and only guessing at what it means, to reach the center of time.
September 1st, 2013
The Center of Time
Today I woke up fifteen minutes early. 7:00 am instead of 7:15. It was my first day being trained, I had only been hired two days earlier. Two months ago I might have treasured and fought for those extra fifteen minutes of sleep, especially considering my current rising time of 11:00am, but not anymore. You see I got married. I think it was while I was traveling in England that my fiance, Spencer, first mentioned this idea of waking up a little early. At the time he had said he was practicing making time to hold me. Later in a letter, he closed by assuring me he'd always have fifteen minutes to give. Well it's habit now and this morning as I slowly opened my eyes at 7 am, I automatically began to shift towards Spencer, lightly kissed his cheek, and watched his lips form a small sleepy smile. This is my favorite part of being married.
Shortly after getting married I was re-reading a letter Spencer had written to me the night before we got married. Usually, I noticed the end, which promised me 15 minutes, but I noticed the opening this time. It said,
"Ma cherie,
It is weird to think of this moment as the center of time. But it felt like it took forever to get here. And it feels like we have forever ahead of us (which has some pretty awesome potential)."
For some reason I kept having to re-read it, trying again and again to comprehend the phrase, "the center of time." I mean, was that possible? I don't think I would have cared so much if I hadn't found some possibility in them. Albert Einstein said, "Time is an illusion." and the Doctor from "Doctor Who" always explained time as, "people assum[ing] that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint-it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly...time-y wimey . . . stuff." So I began to suppose that reaching the "center of time," keeping in mind my limited understanding, was perhaps possible.
November 13th, 2013
So I've decided that "The Center of Time" isn't meant to be an essay. At least not yet. Right now it's a poem. Months ago I was talking to Spencer and said, "I'm digging a trough against falling walls." At the time I was struggling with isolation and fighting against the onset of depressive symptoms. Needless to say, I wasn't referring to the Center of Time in relation to my wedding day or any other happy moment. But, I think I've come to a conclusion. I think time is medium that I will never understand. No amount of Dr. Who quotes or Einstein relative theory will ever truly express the difference between the movement of time and the comprehensible parameters we place around it. But this summation doesn't stem from a defeatist attitude. I've simply realized that for now I can't really claim that a center of time and eternity exists.
But I do still wonder. Maybe it's like the center of a tornado. The winds swirl around and in the middle everything is perfectly still. But if that were so, is it possible to make it to the middle? Are we forever stuck on the outskirts in turbulent winds, attempting to swim to the middle while dodging each passing day in fear of our time catching up to us as we're laid in the grave? Or are we already in the middle, mindless of our place in eternity, each striving determining our happiness or otherwise?
If we are already in the center of time then my Center of Time felt like my Wedding Day because it was the moment my current decision influenced the rest of my eternity. But if I'm on outskirts, forever fighting for an eternal perspective, then the moments of pure peace, between sleeping and waking, or in meditation and writing, these feel like frozen points of time, the instant I found my way to the center, if only to be pulled back into the winds in the next instant. In these moments I could live forever. And that's where I'll strive to stay whether by memories, writing, or digging troughs against falling walls. Because learning to live in eternal time, that's the goal when searching for the center.
Falling Walls
I wish I could freeze it.
And place it in a drawer--
On sad days of loneliness and difficulty,
I could pull it out and gaze once
Again on his peaceful features, so untouched by the worry of a waking reality.
I am digging a trough against falling walls,
Blindly scratching at the sands of my own time.
A Silhouette of the Living.
Perhaps if I dig deep enough someone will notice,
Long after my digging has ceased.
But if not I'll bury my tools,
In the top right corner of the base of my trough.
And as the walls fall in I'll wait to be found, all the while dreaming of a small sleepy smile.
The silhouettes of the living will stumble into timelessness,
Found only in themselves;
The contours of a memory and the potential of eternity.
"Sometimes I feel like if you just watch things,
Just sit still and let the world exist in front of you-
Sometimes I swear that just for a second time freezes
And the world pauses in its tilt.
Just for a second.
And if you somehow found a way to live in that second,
Then you would live forever."
Lauren Oliver said that.
And no matter the falling walls,
I believe her.
-Natalie Cherie
Shortly after getting married I was re-reading a letter Spencer had written to me the night before we got married. Usually, I noticed the end, which promised me 15 minutes, but I noticed the opening this time. It said,
"Ma cherie,
It is weird to think of this moment as the center of time. But it felt like it took forever to get here. And it feels like we have forever ahead of us (which has some pretty awesome potential)."
For some reason I kept having to re-read it, trying again and again to comprehend the phrase, "the center of time." I mean, was that possible? I don't think I would have cared so much if I hadn't found some possibility in them. Albert Einstein said, "Time is an illusion." and the Doctor from "Doctor Who" always explained time as, "people assum[ing] that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint-it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly...time-y wimey . . . stuff." So I began to suppose that reaching the "center of time," keeping in mind my limited understanding, was perhaps possible.
November 13th, 2013
So I've decided that "The Center of Time" isn't meant to be an essay. At least not yet. Right now it's a poem. Months ago I was talking to Spencer and said, "I'm digging a trough against falling walls." At the time I was struggling with isolation and fighting against the onset of depressive symptoms. Needless to say, I wasn't referring to the Center of Time in relation to my wedding day or any other happy moment. But, I think I've come to a conclusion. I think time is medium that I will never understand. No amount of Dr. Who quotes or Einstein relative theory will ever truly express the difference between the movement of time and the comprehensible parameters we place around it. But this summation doesn't stem from a defeatist attitude. I've simply realized that for now I can't really claim that a center of time and eternity exists.
But I do still wonder. Maybe it's like the center of a tornado. The winds swirl around and in the middle everything is perfectly still. But if that were so, is it possible to make it to the middle? Are we forever stuck on the outskirts in turbulent winds, attempting to swim to the middle while dodging each passing day in fear of our time catching up to us as we're laid in the grave? Or are we already in the middle, mindless of our place in eternity, each striving determining our happiness or otherwise?
If we are already in the center of time then my Center of Time felt like my Wedding Day because it was the moment my current decision influenced the rest of my eternity. But if I'm on outskirts, forever fighting for an eternal perspective, then the moments of pure peace, between sleeping and waking, or in meditation and writing, these feel like frozen points of time, the instant I found my way to the center, if only to be pulled back into the winds in the next instant. In these moments I could live forever. And that's where I'll strive to stay whether by memories, writing, or digging troughs against falling walls. Because learning to live in eternal time, that's the goal when searching for the center.
Falling Walls
I wish I could freeze it.
And place it in a drawer--
On sad days of loneliness and difficulty,
I could pull it out and gaze once
Again on his peaceful features, so untouched by the worry of a waking reality.
I am digging a trough against falling walls,
Blindly scratching at the sands of my own time.
A Silhouette of the Living.
Perhaps if I dig deep enough someone will notice,
Long after my digging has ceased.
But if not I'll bury my tools,
In the top right corner of the base of my trough.
And as the walls fall in I'll wait to be found, all the while dreaming of a small sleepy smile.
The silhouettes of the living will stumble into timelessness,
Found only in themselves;
The contours of a memory and the potential of eternity.
"Sometimes I feel like if you just watch things,
Just sit still and let the world exist in front of you-
Sometimes I swear that just for a second time freezes
And the world pauses in its tilt.
Just for a second.
And if you somehow found a way to live in that second,
Then you would live forever."
Lauren Oliver said that.
And no matter the falling walls,
I believe her.
-Natalie Cherie
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