Sunday, 9 December 2012

A week


A week is a universally known period of time, it frames the start and end of a set of days. It helps us split our existence up into meaningful parts. It allows for a new beginning and fresh start every seven days and we need that promise of a pause… a start again, a regrouping and gathering of ourselves. What if there were no measure or concept of days, weeks, months or years, just a continuous passage of time that was not defined in any kind of way, would that be liberating or would it completely contradict how we as human beings work? We feel a need to define everything and in defining, confine our thoughts into a structure and pattern that would be unnatural to break from.

This musing over a week and what a week actually means is born out of a feeling that this last week has been so complete in itself, so full of thoughts and growth and experiences that to leave it and start living through another, a week yet to come seems too soon, time moving on and moving you on in its uncompromising way. The last week means something to me not because of the external things that happened because externally nothing of great note happened but because of the internal dialogue that has been whispering and shouting, bubbling over and draining itself to nothingness over these past seven days until now on the seventh of those days it has settled onto a comforting hum of contentment. Yet, if there were no weeks or days just moment after moment undefined would I feel as if I had progressed if I hadn’t traced it and measured it against the cycle of seven days?

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