Eternity is in love with the creations of time. ~ William Blake
At first I’m not so much struck by this statement itself, but in how Steven Pressfield, in his book The War of Art,* explains it. Pressfield takes delight in thinking of eternity as capable of being in love, an abstract being that takes “joy in what we timebound beings can bring forth into physical existence in our limited material sphere”. I reread Blake’s statement with greater understanding (eternity is an entity with the capacity to love and the entire span of history has been witnessed by this entity and the inventions and constructions humans and nature create bring delight) and I have to put the book down. I know this place, this space of eternity that is alive. It’s lovely to have it eloquently given shape and substance. The simplicity of Blake’s phrase unfolds to remind us where we came from and calls us to return to ourselves if we’ve lost our way. I get a peek over the hedge to that over there I know so well.
If eternity is capable of being in love -and my heart stops for a moment- everything will be ok. What I’m doing is delightful. What I create, whether crafts or businesses, is what it’s all about. Creation is what life is all about and the practice of sitting down at the table everyday and offering myself as a portal in which to bring forth creation is not about determination or skill or raw talent. It is not about discipline as a chore in order to get to the good stuff. It is a sacrament, a meditation, a melting away of self. This is a mandate I can work with. Writing is not a selfish indulgence; it is an urgent directive, my prayer for humanity.
And so, I’ve become swept up in the idea of eternity being in love, of eternity being the background space that holds all of this-that-we-know together, pulsing with warmth and light. I’m particularly taken with the imagery because of my fascination with the science of time and the thought that it may not be what it appears. Poking holes in the ether … bringing into being something that didn’t exist before, with the awareness that it’s always existed.
*A big thank you to The Minimalist Mom for this book recommendation.