Time is a river which sweeps me along,
but I am the river;
it is a tiger which destroys me,
but I am the tiger;
it is a fire which consumes me,
but I am the fire.
The world, unfortunately, is real;
I, unfortunately, am Borges.
I came across these words yesterday. The second line immediately caught my attention as they are the same words I received from the Narmada river a few months ago.
These lines come from a 1946 essay titled "A New Refutation of Time" by Jorge Luis Borges. As the title suggests, it's a reflection on time, a subject that has inspired thinkers, philosophers, writers, poets and artists forever. And it will inspire many more forever.
My time for this morning is intentionally limited, and it's the same every day. Yet, some mornings, I can write a lot, while other days, like today, I struggle to compose just a few sentences.
Same amount of time, different outcomes.
Some days, time truly feels like a river sweeping me along. Yet, if I stop for a moment and breath, I can see that I am that river.