What time is it?
It’s time to make music.
It’s time to create art and write poetry.
It’s time to tell stories.
Just as the song says; there is a time to every purpose under Heaven.
Oh, but you might say; ‘these are not the best times for music and art, this sort of creativity belongs to a more prosperous time, when people are happier and have more leisure time. Right now we need to focus on the world’s problems!’
May I submit to you that focusing on the world’s problems has been pretty much all we have been doing since the dawn of time?
There have been brighter moments for sure; artists such as Mozart and The Beatles beat the drum for life being about love, joy and fun.
Literally living through the French Revolution and the ensuing bloodbath which followed, Beethoven penned the Ode To Joy.
But the Blue Meanies will have their day, it seems.
After the careers of such as Mozart, Beethoven and The Beatles I thought, surely it’s now been said. Surely people must now get it.
Surely we can relax because there’s nothing more to do. It’s all been said and we can all just get on with having a better life and society.
But it’s what we put our attention on now, isn’t it? And those base scrubbers after money and power fortify their positions by keeping life a feature article in The National Inquirer and society obliges them by fixating on sensational, alarmist journalism.
Are any of these problems new? What about the Black Plague? Now there was a respectable plague.
Maybe it’s because we’re so willing to give all our attention to these same problems that we keep getting them.
Maybe time is not a number but what you make of it.