Posts Tagged ‘clocks’

Plenty of Salt

Monday, February 27th, 2012

The cold snap. The fiese bise.

The snow.

The phone call in the dark. The dawning terror at the white roads outside.

It’s 4:20AM and I’m putting my green workpants on over stripey long johns.

Thanks, Siberia.

Shortly, we’re at the first apartment complex.

It’s the fine stuff, so frozen in this polar wind and the stiff brush moves through it like the wipers on a windshield, swooshing through the crystals.

We whisper along, pushing through the darkness. It’s 5:15 AM, or thereabouts.

The moon is a bowl in the sky.

The pathways have been cleared and we move to the truck to swap the sweepers for salt, old paint buckets with kilo measurements scrawled on the sides. We move back to the pathways, the garage entrances. We shuffle in loose patterns, slinging from the hip, spraying this way and that, switching the bucket from arm to arm as the salt eats away at the snow and the cold eats away at our faces.

This one is done and its on to the next, check the salt levels and climb in.

We pop mentos in the truck, teeth cracking on the frozen candies and we throw off gloves, light smokes, make loud ‘its cold’ sounds.

The fine stuff is ok, though. The fine stuff isn’t heavy, doesn’t need the snow plow, no need for loading and unloading.

On a good day with the fine stuff we finish the morning shift by 9.

Thankfully, the rest of the days are spent in The Garden.

The Wire to The Moon

The Wire to The Moon

Live Sync # 7 : The Times, They Are A Changin’

Saturday, February 26th, 2011

I remember one of the first synchronicity blogs I stumbled upon when I arrived at The Rabbit Hole last November.

In a brief, bleak opening paragraph detailing modern life pretty much as we know it, one sentence jumped off the page and climbed into my head.

The line mentioned in passing how those awakening to synchronicity often find themselves looking at the time and seeing seemingly odd or symbolic combinations and repetitions in numbers.

Another Lightning Bolt; another huge Slap to the Slumber.

It immediately rang out inside me. I too, remember fleeting thoughts on repeated numbers and weird little moments in time. All duly ignored by my fail-safe Ego, of course:

"Don’t think you idiot, run! It’s a race, remember?"

A familiar refrain to anyone trying to build a career, start a family, get happy in this world.

That’s um, all of us, no?

Each a Slave to the clock, always on the go, never feeling like we’re ever there.

Where is there, anyway?

"Life", and its Illusory Goals? Youbetcherass.

synchronicity happens - pretty quickly, in 2011

Time - useless, really.

Since I started making changes in my life, I find myself challenging every and any ‘this is just how things work’ types of conventions. One of those is Time, and as I now also find myself outside of the 24 Hour Day / Working Week "Guidelines" laid down by society, I can play around with it.

Partly through self-employment, but mostly through self-empowerment.

Anyway, thanks to technological advances, the little black monolith I grasp in my ape-like hand has the ability to take a screenshot quite simply: you just push two buttons at the *ahem* same time.

I found this function a couple of weeks ago, and since have been keeping a record of time-check syncs.

Now, this may appear like I check the time often. I don’t. I ignore it. And that’s the key.

I do use the phone too much though. It seems every time I pick it up these days, there’s either a synchronous number or a combination of dates, times and songs that form a sync. The past few weeks have been extremely heavy in terms of synchronicity. This coincides with my upgrade to full-hermit status, I feel, which started in January.

There is a lot of quiet in my immediate surroundings. The world outside, however, has been far from quiet. Tuning in, perhaps.

This last week has been ridiculous, and "timesyncs" were no exception. The inspiration / motivation for this little art project was the series in the bottom row, starting on Friday, 25th February. An amazing sequence.

What a trip!

Jimmy’s Final Thought: Twitter breaks, I produce. Hmm.