Tag: time

Musings

[Blog] Liminal

Faith Hakimian

There’s something beautiful about the liminal. I think it’s why we are so fascinated by sunrises and sunsets, and why the twilight and predawn hours have a magic to them. I think it’s why we mark the solstices and the equinoxes, and why the first flower of spring and the first snowflake at the end of fall are so much more exciting than all the others that follow after them. And, perhaps, its why so many myths and legends involve the things and places between.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines liminal as “of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition”. Or, in simpler terms: “in-between, transitional”. Way back in college, I remember one of my English professors expounding on how the concept played a significant part in the writings of a specific poet (possibly William Blake?), but for the life of me, I can’t remember exactly what she told us. What I do remember is that the concept didn’t seem to make much sense to me back then, but it must have stuck in my head, because here we are. (That being said, if any of you reading this happen to actually remember what is only flitting around the edges of my memory, please, please share your knowledge in the comments below. I will be forever grateful.)

Most people will be familiar with what Heraclitus said, that “the only constant is change”, and this might begin to offer an explanation for our fascination with the things between. These liminal things are, after all, the closest thing we have to an incarnation of change itself. Summer days may stretch on, each one hot and bright and seemingly the same, but then comes one a little cooler, a little crisper, and the leaves that once were all bright green begin to fade to yellow. And time moves on.

Or maybe it’s something simpler. Maybe the value lies in the fact that these things are, by their nature, somewhat scarce. Night and day both last for hours, but dawn and dusk are much shorter and neither day nor night, despite sharing some similarities with both. There are many humans, and many seals, but only some seals are selkies, with the ability to shed their skins and walk about in human form.

Or maybe these things catch our attention for some other reason, and I’m only grasping at straws. Whatever the reason, though, its hard to deny that they do fascinate us. Why else are there selkies and centaurs and werewolves? Or why else do things happen at the stroke of midnight and the first light of morning?

P.S. Hi everyone! It’s… ah… been a while. Please forgive my sudden and unannounced hiatus. I’m still alive, and really excited to be back. Also, I’m in the middle of Camp NaNoWriMo again, which has been incredibly helpful in the realm of yanking me back towards a daily writing habit. Even if I’m nowhere near my stated goal. Ah, well. I’ll have to catch that white whale another day. (Or buckle down and bump up that wordcount. One or the other.)

Either way, I’ll be back next week with more ramblings. Or excerpts!

Musings

[Blog] Blurred Time

Faith Hakimian

As an EMT, I’ll ask my patients what day it is (among other things) in order to gauge how oriented they are. The irony of this, of course, is that most of the time I’m not one hundred percent sure myself. Part of that is the weird schedule I keep– no Monday through Friday work for me. Part of that is the weird timelessness that has come about with all the lockdowns etc. during the pandemic. And, sure, part of it is the truth that I haven’t felt all that tethered to exactly what day of the week it is since finishing college. Then again, it’s been even worse for the last few weeks as my schedule shifted temporarily during the holidays.

Every so often, though, it extends beyond that, and I’ll catch myself wondering what time of year it is. Usually after I accidentally listen to a Christmas song in July or watch some movie that is decidedly set in the summer while it’s still January in the real world. In the past I’ve blamed this on the fact that I grew up with four proper seasons, suggesting that living in California without them has low-key tilted my internal clock. But at this point, I can honestly say that I could see myself momentarily forgetting what season it is even if a blizzard was raging outside, so there’s that.

There’s no deeper meaning to any of this that I want to draw out. I just find it interesting and vaguely amusing. Does anyone else catch themselves forgetting what day, month, or year it is?

Musings

[Blog] Too Many Hobbies, Not Enough Time

Faith Hakimian

As a kid, I didn’t recognize time as a limited resource. Sure, there was only so much reading, playing, writing, etc. one could do before it was time to go to bed, and sure, I recognized that there was a point which, if passed, meant I would not finish my homework on time, but that’s about it. The idea that I could possibly not have enough time to do everything I wanted to was completely foreign.

Oh, shush. You can stop laughing any time now.

Anyway. That, in and of itself, is hardly an earth-shattering revelation. Figuring that out is part of growing up, part of maturing. It’s good and necessary, but not a sign of any special insight.

All this to say, no one ever warned me that I was going to reach a point where I was going to have to choose what interests to pursue. Or if they did, I was too young and foolish to listen. That’s a distinct possibility. Either way, the fact remains that I’m at a point where I have to balance the amount of time I spent reading, writing, having a social life, playing video games… and the list goes on.

I know. Poor me. Perhaps a better way of putting it is to say that I get to make that choice. After all, it’s silly to complain too seriously about having too many good options.

Birthright Armenia, Musings

[Blog] Week Thirteen, Everyday Life

Faith Hakimian

BIRTHRIGHTHEADER

The past week has given me a chance to just stop and breathe for a moment. There’s a part of me that feels almost guilty about that: I’m only here for a little longer; isn’t slowing down a waste of a limited resource? Turns out I’m not as immune to the fear of missing out as I thought I was.

Despite the easier pace, though, it’s not as if my days have been empty. As I write this, it’s Friday evening and I’ve spent thirty hours at my jobsites this week and another five in class. I’ve shadowed doctors and chatted with their patients. I’ve written things and edited others. I’ve talked with friends both in Armenia and back in the States. I’ve treasured the thousand tiny things that make up everyday life.

As silly as it is, I think I can thank a Facebook status chain for part of that. It’s the one where you’re supposed to post up a black and white photo from your life for seven days in a row, the only other rule being that you can’t include people or any kind of explanation. It’s a different way of looking at the world around you, one that gives you a chance to notice all the little bits and pieces that you might not otherwise: this nook or that cranny, the view out a window, the minutiae that anyone can relate to.

The more I think about it, the easier it gets for me to remember that slowing down isn’t a bad thing. Not even while traveling. Perhaps especially not while traveling. And for me, at least, it will give me some of the memories that I’ll hold most dear.