This sense of time rushing forward without having any ability to regulate its passage started when my daughter was born, and I was 26 years old. I looked at her, just days old, laying in my arms, and I started crying, struck with the realization she was only mine and tiny for a millisecond. And I was right. She's 30 years old now, with three kids of her own, and they're doing the same thing, much to my dismay. I want to hold onto the precious and have it pause, to let me savor it. I almost can't stand to scrapbook; just looking at the childhood photos and memorabilia of my two babies kills me.
This emotion, which I can't completely name, is slightly ruining my life! I say slightly, because I'm not depressed, still enjoy time with my family and friends, and get stuff done, but so much of life is tinged with this sadness, this sense that I can only drink this one cup of life, and it seems like I'm forced to gulp it down by some unseen mandate. What is my problem? Is this complex emotion common? How do others live with it, or do they even go there? To quote a friend, "it's not easy being me."
Here are some words that somewhat describe what I'm feeling, (gathered from https://thoughtcatalog.com/brianna-wiest/2016/02/40-words-for-emotions-youve-felt-but-couldnt-explain/)
Liberosis: the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.
Avenoir: the desire that memory could flow backward. We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way…
Rückkehrunruhe: the feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness—to the extent you have to keep reminding yourself that it happened at all, even though it felt so vivid just days ago—which makes you wish you could smoothly cross-dissolve back into everyday life, or just hold the shutter open indefinitely and let one scene become superimposed on the next, so all your days would run together and you’d never have to call cut.
Oh-and this next one-I have all the time, even though it's somewhat different from the emotion I'm addressing:
Anemoia: nostalgia for a time you’ve never known. Imagine stepping through the frame into a sepia-tinted haze, where you could sit on the side of the road and watch the locals passing by. Who lived and died before any of us arrived here, who sleep in some of the same houses we do, who look up at the same moon, who breathe the same air, feel the same blood in their veins—and live in a completely different world.
Basically, I'm obsessed with earth life and not keeping my eyes set on the prize, which is eternity. I forgot to engage in forward thinking of what God has in store for me after my short time on earth is over. I struggle with the reality that life is but brief and I need to accept it. I want more time with my children and grandchildren. I want a return to youth with a stronger, energetic body. I want to travel to many places and experience many things. I am greedy, and want more than my share of life.
To comfort myself, I looked up pertinent scriptures, and the reality is life on earth IS brief, and there are no redo's, no pauses, no slowing down, no going backwards. I found this article online that describes it (sorry so long), from: http://embracedbytruth.com/Future/The%20Final%20Judgment/Brevity%20of%20Life.htm
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BREVITY OF LIFE
Life is the brief period between birth and death. In spite of the age at which one dies, it is still true that life is characterized by brevity, a brevity that is undeniable and disconcerting. The Scriptures affirm the shortness of life and experience confirms the affirmation. The briefness of life is taught in both Testaments:
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle . . . Oh, remember that my life is a breath (Job 7:6-7; see: v. 16; 8:9);
My days are swifter than a runner . . . they pass by like swift ships, like an eagle swooping on its prey (Job 9:25-26; see: 16:22);
Man who is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble. He comes forth like a flower and fades away; he flees like a shadow and does not continue (Job 14:1-2; see: 10:20);
For He remembered that they were but flesh, a breath that passes away and does not come again (Ps. 78:39; see: 39:5; 89:47; 90:5-6; 144:4);
For my days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn life a furnace (Ps. 102:3);
My days are like an evening shadow; I wither away like grass (Ps. 102:11);
I am gone like a shadow at evening (Ps. 109:23);
The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass (Isa. 40:7-8);
What is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away (Jas. 4:14).
"Consider the words used to communicate the shortness of life: “a weaver’s shuttle,” “a breath,” “a runner,” “an eagle,” “swift ships,” “smoke,” “shadow,” “grass,” and “vapor”. For a moment, a very brief flash, these things have their moment, and then they are gone. So it is with man.
Man is born, he lives, and he dies. And the living, the time between the birth and the demise, is so short. As quickly as smoke or vapor dissipates, as grass or flowers spring up and fade, as a shadow lengthens and then disappears, so it is with the span of our lives. Life is given and life is taken; we are here today and gone tomorrow.
It is ironic that the more the individual comes to understand and even appreciate life, the closer he is to his departure. It is almost as if by the time one realizes what it means to be alive, the life is ebbing and soon gone. It is at the end of life that an understanding of the brevity of life takes hold.
Coupled with the emergence of the realization of the shortness of life is insight into the value of life. Because my length of life is limited, I must understand that the length of my life is invested with profound worth by virtue of the fact that it is made in the image of God (see: Image of God). My time is ever so brief, so my time is ever so valuable.
Additionally what time I have is given—it is a gift. It is not really of my own doing, neither is it the culmination of random chance and evolution. I have been blessed with life, albeit a brief life. So in my awareness of its brevity and because of its Source, my life has significance and great potential. I must redeem my time.
In light of the briefness of life consideration should relentlessly be given to priorities. In other words, a decision must be made regarding what is important. The trivial is not deserving of time and energy; only those things of significance and, therefore, that have eternal consequences are deserving of attention.
One should live with the awareness that time is short, regardless of the number of years that one lives. Even if the years are many, relatively speaking, the time is brief; and awareness of the limited time should cause one to evaluate priorities, as well as spent each moment with profit.
But to accomplish this is nearly impossible, even for the believer. It is a struggle to put off the inconsequential and to put on the essential. Human nature gravitates toward the transient and the novel; man is in love with the moment. Eternity is not considered. But such is a foolish life."
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So my struggle is with life on earth's swift passage, and the older I get, the faster the years seem to fly. My only hope is to put my eggs in the Kingdom of God basket. My eternal soul hates that life here is brief and fraught with trouble. People (and pets!) I love die, others move away, relationships take work, and hard things happen. The cure is to know that I will live forever. There indeed will come a beautiful and incomprehensible time when I don't have to worry about the clock ticking, my body decomposing, missing out on great adventures, and terrible loss. Our hearts are meant for eternity, and that is why life here is hard: there are too many endings.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18
