Thursday, December 13, 2018

12th Moanin' of Christmas


April 15, 2013

Greetings from your time,

“If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of potential - for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints; possibility never.”  Soren Kierkegaard

He stands in front of the clock and touches the wood frame, his eyes wandering over the mahogany and glass and brass.  The numbers surrounding the face of the clock wait patiently for the hands to give them meaning.

He gently pulls the door open and reaches into the base of the clock and finds the key.  He carefully fits into the hole and raises his elbow slightly so he can turn the key.  Presses his lips together and twists, turning it steadily, the ratchet snicking behind the face of the clock, turning unseen cogs and wheels.  Winding until he feels the right tension, then moving to the next keyhole and winding again.

He sets the key back in its place and then touches the pendulum, edging it to one side, and takes a deep breath, holds it.  Waiting to begin, holding it still with two fingers against the cool metal.  Waiting, his hand steady, waiting.

Waiting until my eyes open and then neatly pulling his fingers away and allowing the pendulum to swing in its first arc, slicing through the small space inside the cabinet, making the first of countless trips marked by gentle ticks of the mechanism above.

And I come fully awake, aware that my time has begun. 

In every day there is this potential, wound up in the mainspring, put there for us to use.  Part of the mechanism of our day, that energy stored in the coiled metal, slowly released with each minute that passes.  Tick. Tick. Tick. The pendulum relentlessly wags in its course, filling the hour with what can be.

With each tick the potential is released, expended, offered into our day.  We are not always even aware of it, only noticing the passage of time.

The potential.   What we are capable of.  What we are destined for.  What we aspire to.  What we create.  What we risk.  What we give.  What we choose to do, or not do. 
                                                                       
Someone once said to me: “I am so busy mopping the floor I don’t have time to fix the broken spigot.”  And it seems too many days are spent just in that way.  Frantic in the busyness, nose to the grindstone, spinning plates and juggling chainsaws.  The work has to be done, the floor has to be mopped, but we are meant for more.  Not just what ‘is’ but what is possible.

Every day has in it the potential for greatness for you, which sounds so bold and big that maybe it intimidates you, as it does me. So we take the minutes and count them up until we have enough for hours and we turn them in at the end of the day.  But the potential will be there again tomorrow, wound up by an unseen hand twisting the key.   Our potential.   Some days we see it, some days our head is down and maybe we only catch a glimpse.  Some days we choose not to look for fear we will be challenged and fail.  But the potential remains.   

In this day, the clock is wound and the hands set to show you where you will begin, and the pendulum is released, swinging now, driving the potential to you.  Ticking off a question with each passing moment:

What will you do with it?

Hope this finds you claiming what can be,

David

Copyright © 2013 David Smith

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