The Morning Sky out of the Window with Rohan on my Lap Cooing Softly
Dear reader,
A watch is, I suppose, one way to tell the time. But I often wonder what it means to live by the ticking of a clock that is not mine. Instead, a centrally-controlled, scientifically-calibrated clock that puts everyone everywhere on the same time. It is a wonderful, impersonal, incredible, cold thing. It does not sit right by me, and I suspect it does not sit right by anyone else either. It is so useful and so inhuman. Throughout the day, there are infinite infinitesimal clashes between the time and my time, and the time and your time. The clash is inside our minds and, over the years that this new normal has been normalized, we have learned to accept defeat.
But what if we are right? Should a human mind, and a human life, run to the ticking of one second per second? Should time, and therefore days, and therefore weeks, and therefore years, and therefore life, be measured this way? Is it ever? There is a life I build on various calendars, and a life I lead in the interstitial spaces of those 60-minute blocks. Productivity, appointments, deadlines. Whimsy, artistic licence, and the stubborn streak we call procrastination but could equally be called man’s-search-for-freedom-between-the-cracks.
In today’s post, some sights from the morning, and questions about upcoming projects. I need your help!
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I just completed a commission for a local cafe chain in Vancouver. I am making my first mural later this year and also getting a studio space to push my artistic boundaries. Meanwhile, I continue to write my first book with a major publisher. And, of course, this is Year One as a parent to little Rohan. I need your help balancing these many creative and life projects, as well as one more interesting challenge with readers of the newsletter…