The Day That Doesn’t (Always) Exist

Pretty sure I first thought hard about Leap Year in 1960, the third one of my lifetime (I was born in a Leap Year). Three years earlier, in the middle of the night, the realization gripped me that my father was a lot older than any other kid I knew. I would spend most of my life without him around. From that moment, I’ve been fascinated by Time and my ever-increasing conviction that humans don’t understand it and that’s enormously important. Many spiritual teachings make people more anxious about time, much to their detriment. A worthy quality of Taoism and even more so Buddhism is that they suggest ways to detach from time and feel less overwhelmed by it.

My decision to consciously sense and appreciate the arrival of Spring has been an unalloyed good. I’m stronger, more attuned to the Tao, because of it. A couple minutes and everything doesn’t seem to be running mindlessly down a drain as much.

Although it’s a song clearly about the advent of winter, I often play Sandy Denny’s masterpiece, “who Know Where the Time Goes?” as the days grow warmer. As I noted a little while ago, it embraces and conquers any sorrow in the world.

 

Across the evening sky all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it’s time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
Sad deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it’s time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it’s time to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?

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