I once knew a girl who would always answer “Detroit” when asked that rhetorical question.  Not quite sure what that meant, but when you are 19 and trying to impress, you will giggle at the slightest thing.  Of course, I have never been to Detroit- for all I know there is a vortex of all past events collected in the center of town, complete with blue lightning bolts and raging winds which must be shouted over.  But, probably not.

The way I see it, time goes behind us. Enough said.  We pass it (or it passes us), never to be reclaimed, perhaps remembered, but lost to us forever.  This being the case, it evident just how valuable the thing is.  We often do not see that until the moment has passed us, however.  Keeping this in mind helps keep me in the moment.

My thoughts on time this morning, of course, were set into motion by the realization that six weeks have passed since my last blog post.  A blog must be kept current, I had heard, so that folks will want to come back.  It’s probably a good idea to keep it interesting as well.  And so, I apologize to the thousands of people reading for failing you on both counts.

Life has been full of minutiae lately, and that has kept me from organizing my thoughts.  That, and Facebook.  What a time killer that is.  But it does seem to celebrate minutiae, and that is pretty cool.  Makes me feel relevant.  I’ve enjoyed connecting personally (did I really just say “personally?”) with people from my past.  When thinking of the gaps in my blog, I am reminded of my journal, which I began in college and have kept up with very sporadically in the past several years.  Recent entries have dealt with major events, not all of which have been pleasant.  When historians crack open that account, they will surely see my life has become quite a drama!  So, I have welcomed Facebook and am grateful for their “Terms of Service,” which ensure that my minutiae will be someone else’s ad campaign long after I am gone.  At last, I have achieved immortality!

But this blog is supposed to focus on inspiration, and that may show up just about anywhere.  My thoughts of the inevitable passing of time has planted a seed which I hope soon germinates into art.  And sometimes inspiration comes from a warm (for February) night, camera, tripod, Christmas lights, and a willing 12 year old assistant.

 

Downtown Detroit? Don't think so.  ©Jeff S. Saxman.

Downtown Detroit? Don't think so. ©Jeff S. Saxman.