These Swift Waters

Time is a concept that we rarely consider or even question. Time just is to us. We curse time, thank time, and stare directly into its smirking face constantly throughout the day. Rarely do we stop to consider time's effect on our day and ultimately our lives. The passage of time is not questioned and our inability to complete a task in a timely fashion would obviously mean we had worked too slow, not time moved too fast. But when was the second hand crowned king? When did we begin to submit to the calender? We race the clock, we conform to schedules, we are awakened by the alarm, not the sun, and we have no power to fight this force. Those who ignore the existence of time are tread under foot, but those who live their lives by the command of the clock suffer the greatest stress. Where is a happy medium? Where is there a cure for our mindless and frantic obedience to the time-piece? We are willing slaves to a master we cannot even see, a master who may or may not intend good for us.

The power of time is like a swift, deep river; we are caught in its tight hold and, because we have become such good swimmers, let ourselves be swept away. Some drown, most reach the end tired and beaten, and there are those select few who saw a way out and took it. Life is a river and it will not wait for those who are not willing to ride. There are some, though, who have a higher faith, a stronger conviction, and a broader outlook on this life. These few have seen the shore and have learned to walk. These few allowed life to pass them by because they knew that life would only lead to death. These few know that they would see eternal life upon the rock they now traversed. I am one of these. My convictions lie in a power greater than time, greater than the swinging pendulum. So I walk, where the air is plentiful and my head is kept above the rapids.

I did not see people walking or swimming along this small river in the back roads of Franklin Tennessee, but the idea was very much there. I ran back to the car, pulled out my film Nikon FA, checked all that needed to be checked, and allowed the river to flow right on through my lens when I pressed the little silver button and heard the familiar sound of the shutter.