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'The faster you move the slower the time passes
''The faster you move the slower the time passes'' Isn't that the oft heard phrase? I would often wonder about it. Sigh! If only I could move.
Well, at age 19, I had just moved from the bed to a wheelchair. It was agonizingly slow. But the doctors were jubilant and they kept talking about how fast I had moved. Moved? I have patiently watched time moving and would often wonder if I would someday move while time watched. Even today, I hadn't moved, I was in fact moved by compassionate hands of the medical fraternity that were desperately trying to ensure I could move. Hadn't they seen me endure the body's immobility for 18 long years whilst all along time was enjoying its own mobility? A slow mobility that seemed lifeless, almost like this body that life had forced me to inhabit. Nobody wanted to befriend me. My eager eyes were content, befriending the bedroom ceiling. I projected all my thoughts on the benevolent ceiling allowing my imagination to give them life. The wheelchair ensured I had another friend, the floor. Maybe, it would carry me, my thoughts, to hope's door.
I manoeuvred the wheelchair slowly. Elated at my touch, the wheelchair grinned. The floor laughed with us. The ceiling felt relieved. My memory threw up the phrase: "The faster you move the slower the time passes'' I decided to take it slow, every movement. No hurry. After all, I want time to move fast. I must therefore move slow. Time watches me. Its tik tok unhurried, matching the beats of my heart.
Hey, will somebody please tell time I'm in a hurry. Time ain't moving, you see. Doctors tell me I have barely any time. My body heaves one last time. It lies inert. I have finally moved on. The empty wheelchair is left wondering about the phrase: ''The faster you move the slower the time passes.''
#chitstory
Well, at age 19, I had just moved from the bed to a wheelchair. It was agonizingly slow. But the doctors were jubilant and they kept talking about how fast I had moved. Moved? I have patiently watched time moving and would often wonder if I would someday move while time watched. Even today, I hadn't moved, I was in fact moved by compassionate hands of the medical fraternity that were desperately trying to ensure I could move. Hadn't they seen me endure the body's immobility for 18 long years whilst all along time was enjoying its own mobility? A slow mobility that seemed lifeless, almost like this body that life had forced me to inhabit. Nobody wanted to befriend me. My eager eyes were content, befriending the bedroom ceiling. I projected all my thoughts on the benevolent ceiling allowing my imagination to give them life. The wheelchair ensured I had another friend, the floor. Maybe, it would carry me, my thoughts, to hope's door.
I manoeuvred the wheelchair slowly. Elated at my touch, the wheelchair grinned. The floor laughed with us. The ceiling felt relieved. My memory threw up the phrase: "The faster you move the slower the time passes'' I decided to take it slow, every movement. No hurry. After all, I want time to move fast. I must therefore move slow. Time watches me. Its tik tok unhurried, matching the beats of my heart.
Hey, will somebody please tell time I'm in a hurry. Time ain't moving, you see. Doctors tell me I have barely any time. My body heaves one last time. It lies inert. I have finally moved on. The empty wheelchair is left wondering about the phrase: ''The faster you move the slower the time passes.''
#chitstory
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