We picked up fresh flowers at the market this morning for our New Year's Eve party this evening. Fresh flowers always make me think of Mrs. Dalloway, of Clarissa, busily preparing for her party but also curiously introspective. My favorite of Virginia Woolf's fictional works, I love how Mrs. Dalloway shifts in and out of the present to memories and times of past, how we are allowed in the inner sanctums of so many characters. I love how the drama of that day unfolds, slowly, and yet alarmingly fast when I remember that it all transpires within the course of a single day.
Meditating on the end of one year and the start of the next, Mrs. Dalloway reminds me that time is not linear - what didn't get done in 2016 is not forever lost, the present will always be the past so long as I'm reflecting on it, and the unwritten future will always carry with it threads from the past. Like a stitch from my knitting, time is cyclical and fluid, it loops and winds - it does not form a line.
Each day holds within it potential and loss, hope and despair, happiness and melancholy. With each day packed with so much possibility and meaning, I'm reminded to not place too much value on today, just because it marks an arbitrary date of closure. Each day is to be lived to its fullest - to its richest. As the saying goes, 'onward ever, backward never.'
So we might as well take the time for fresh flowers.