sarah masen

75 grains

by covrin on Wed Aug 25 19:18:07 +0000 2004 in Dispatches

I’m not sure I entirely get what Sarah’s referring to myself – but that is okay because I tend to assign my own meaning anyway.
This cd I originally bought for my wife when it came out- it was that chick rock stuff (so I thought) that I didn’t really like much at the time. Now I find that she speaks to me powerfully with her music and lyrics.
I was reflecting on the analogy about filling up the pacific ocean with sand to the height of Mt Everest and the bird which takes away a single grain of sand each year. How many years will it take to get through that pile? Eternity is longer still… Our lives on earth are so few, not even a spoonful of that sand, but our existence immeasurable. The comparision of the years of our lives to grains of sand brought this tune into my head. 75 years of life seems be a good average lifespan I guess. My father recently died (suicide) and I visited his rest the other day for the first time.

Graveside
I practiced the moment there.
I closed my eyes and traced my fathers name with my finger tips
I took a handful of the fresh dirt there and rubbed it into my palms.
I felt my origin – my destination in my hands
Begotten by my father in his twenty-fourth year
I pulled the small stones from the dirt – grains – of time, of life
Counting 61 I lined the marker with these stones – the years of my father in symbol
Counting 14 more – setting them off by themselves
I wondered – those unspent years – what might they have been consumed with
He feared, desperately feared- I think – nothing more than the last 14+ were consumed by
I wrote the moment

75 little grains Consumed by… Burning down Consumed by searching for happiness, for meaning, for relief to be wanted – loved Searching for significance – in work, in marriage, in fatherhood to be important to someone – needed – loved Years consumed with a dream – a longing unspoken – perhaps unidentified Lost Time consumed by time itself

I realized – I myself – I have been searching
What for?
This is nonsense – damned nonsense as one once said
I already have everything I would ever need to search for
I am loved
I have meaning – purpose – significance
I know the answers now – being and existence are no longer utter mystery
I have life with an uppercase ‘el’ – not merely a lower case one
So why the searching?
An addictive behaviour I suspect. Damaging behaviour – I now recognize.
I will not pretend I am lost any longer – I am not
I will not wander lost in a fog of my own making

I gather the 75 little stones in my hand
These are my years now
Covered in mud I see them vaguely
They balance with my soul in some strange way
I wash them with water – as my years have been redeemed
My spent years cleansed – my unspent set aside – sanctified
What Christ wouldn’t give to hold in His hands
My seventy-five little grains of sand

Context

Previous Entry

Replies