New Beginnings to Old Endings

Things are rapidly changing. Oh how rapidly things are changing. Three years ago I had a best friend, a girlfriend, and another best friend that shared their daily evenings with me at a round table in the lobby of a college campus - all for the sake of a spades game. We would laugh, sometimes scream; occasionally, we would lose sight of the fact that we were alive and well, and that we were - most importantly - together. It was in those quiet minutes after a petty argument that, for a moment, we would all look around the table and mentally burn the image of each other into our immediate memory for later use. Brenden, Fish, and Holly: I miss you all terribly.

A sophomore terrified of sudden change, my palms were sweating as if I had just finished running ten miles to class. Enter Tom Golden. A man with the poise of a giant, his humility poured out more vibrantly than even his opening words: Class, today we learn. They rang in my ears as if the inside of my head was hollow. The echoing sound of those words would cause my mind to ruminate on the very foundation of why I decided to go to school in the first place: knowledge. Word after word dropped out like trickling liquid, replenishing my ever-growing thirst for intelligent growth. The nourishment was too much to handle, causing me to stand abruptly and leave the room; one of my classmates shared a common goal as I noticed their route would lead them to the same water fountain I had envisioned during Mr. Golden's lesson. I allowed her first entry to the world of watery wonder, but as she bent down to sip the newly formed ark of water I realized something beautiful.

Forward two years. My life crumbles, I lose sight of everything I thought I wanted; I disown my own moral ambiguity so strongly that I replaced it with sexual endeavors and procrastinated actions. I don't see the light in Holly's eyes quite the same way, and any semblance of unity has been broken and replaced with our bodily dependencies. Muscles becoming weaker, food becoming shelter and credit cards becoming the foundation, my life began spiraling. This is not to paint the same cliche that so many artists have formulated over the years past; but, rather, I am insisting my time spent during this era of my life was that of a dizzying ride. I was unsure of how I could move on from anything when I had nothing to move on to. Still, as I look back I know I was seeing something beautiful.

Enter God.

"Clay, Blake's dead..." my brother's voice was haunting. His child of eight was dead, and in turn I lost a nephew.

"Ryan," what do I say?

"It's okay man. I love you," he clicked the end button, abruptly finishing the last conversation I would have with my brother - at least to this day.

I lay on my couch at five a.m. and wonder more wonders than my mind ever wondered before. A failed near-engagement, a lost nephew and a missing sense of self, it was safe to say I was at an all-time low. My self-awareness was so low that I forgot time; I didn't have my phone on for three days and had no clock set to the right hour. I became a ghostly visage of the once-known Clay Hargrave. I was a mess, but I realized something beautiful.

Remain God. Enter: my awareness of Him.

Only six months later and I am on top of the world. I have realized some things that are more beautiful than I ever thought of before. To depict these thoughts would be difficult, but I will use what little articulation I can in order to attempt this.

I have realized, above all else, that I cannot fight time. It bends, churns, shifts, changes, and runs its course with or without my approval. It observes, realizes, predicts and understands everything more delicately than a father knows his own son. I say this because I am done living in fear of the future. Can time not help me, rather than inflict fear? If I understand this precious resource, can I not achieve anything? Can I not travel, fall in love, raise a family, write and perform music; can I not do anything my mind has been able to formulate through dreams? I believe I can, with the right amount of time.

The beauty found in all of my times over the last three years was what I call "the moment." I remember that day at the water fountain so well I can tell you the color shirt the blonde girl of about five feet three inches wore that day. I can tell you the amount of stars in the sky that I could see through the living room window a year ago. I can relay to you the exact time my brother called me six months ago. The answers are red, six, and 4:43 a.m. Why? It's simple: I chose to be aware of time during those moments.

I am, from now on, going to live like this. I can't let time fight me, I have to coerce it into becoming allies with me. I must grasp its hands and walk, steadily, along my provided path. Should I make a wrong turn, time will be with me as I understand it as being present. I will no longer let it get away.

Things are rapidly changing, sure, but I am going to remember every second possible.