We can attempt to freeze the clock and mentally press pause. We can infuse ourselves into a present moment that seems invincible, that appears everlasting. Nothing penetrates us. Everything will slow down, because we are very much dedicated to creating a bit of magic. We are determined to become immersed in a state of flow, in a state of being that shuts out external stimuli, nagging stressors, and over-analytical thoughts that follow us around like our own personal shadow, roaming through the ins and outs of our minds.
Sifting through those thoughts, until all the pieces fall back into place, is another moment in and of itself. Perhaps it’s gruesome anxiety, or one of those insistent over-thinking spells. But that’s not the kind of moment where we wish we can stop time.
We long for moments that are infinite and unmovable. It’s special when our words turn heavy, when we’re saying things to each other that are important. Our sentences are coated with substance; they’re enriching and complex, but simple enough to understand. They’re ripe strawberries dipped in creamy, dark chocolate, encompassing a sweetness that’s potent.
We talk about what really matters; we disclose, we indulge, we listen. So, could we please, pretty please with cherries on top, have this dialogue stand still?
And, could this embrace last just a bit longer? We’re both emotionally exhausted and our touch, our physical contact, our hug, is somehow injected and fueled with healing properties. It helps us. Could we bask in these minutes, without them rolling onward and transforming into something else entirely? We have a good deal going; let’s hold onto it, okay?
And, maybe we can feel infinite. Maybe we can cultivate this particular moment. But as much as we try, we can’t stop time. Chronos time will keep existing, whether we like it or not. The clock will continue to tick – seconds, minutes and hours will pass.
Yes, time will surely march on. And we’ll still have to face what’s ahead. We always do.