Saturn went retrograde and I feel like time is pressing down on me.
I feel it yet again — and it's hard to explain, as always — that something is looming over me, rushing me, pressuring me, wanting me to act on something. Not entirely sure what, but I just need to do it. And isn't that the curse of humanity? The thing we spend our whole lives running from and towards? Time. And pressure. Just keep going, keep doing. Anything. Because if you don't — if you actually stop and look around — you're going to see you're not where you want to be, that you don't have everything you want. And you're failing, and you're not good enough, and the spiral starts. The spiral downwards, and suddenly the snake is biting its own tail, like always.
And that's funny, because I realised time is a spiral too. History repeats itself — in the grand scheme of things, and in my life too. So who's telling me I should run forward, when there is no straight line ahead of me? I can only go upwards — only get better, and then worse, and then better again. Everything will lead me back to myself. I'd like to hope, at least.
Saturn, Kronos, time, pressing down on my fragile human body like a spiderweb — invisible, but you can get tangled up in it in seconds. Milliseconds. Nanoseconds. And if all I've ever wanted was freedom — to be free and at ease, entirely worry-free — then time must be the exact opposite of that hope. And that's the tragedy of our small human life. Maybe we will never be fully free of these shackles, of things just passing, of never knowing complete freedom. Complete peace.
I feel it the most when I'm just by myself, sitting in a public area, watching people and time pass by: that it's only the now. Everything is happening now, and everyone is connected, all at once. I can see thread-like light above our heads, leading to nowhere and no one in particular — no end, no beginning — just there, all over, everywhere, all at once. And suddenly time doesn't matter, because the now is perfect. It's a rare moment, ironically. You forget it the second you remember you have chores to do.
But for now, I stop, and I look around, and I decide that I'm actually happy with where I am. Not where I was a year ago, not where I want to be yet — but I have time. And time is strange: it presses down on me one second, nudges me gently the next, and quietly soothes the scars from the past all the while. The same force that shackles me is the one that heals me. In retrospect, things are not that bad. And I'm looking forward to what I'll see the next time I look down from upon the spiral.
