Our relationship with time is a troublesome umbilical cord that feeds our lives full of haste — because there is never enough time in any day or night to get everything on our little lists done. This time-wound spreads its infection into the bloodstream of seconds, and its chaos is especially palpable among the inhabitants of first-world countries. The ripple effect of this resistance to "too little time" rings out in ever-narrower circles, nearer and nearer to the artery of our soft tissue — our heart. And a way of life that was supposed to set us free has made us ill.

Time is supposed to tire out our bodies and wear them down, not our spirit! The denseness of our body does not allow time to move through it; this resistance leads to friction that grinds and grinds until the downward circling of time against molecules has completed its last circle, and the body gives up its claim and gives the spirit back its freedom.

Time is food for our souls. Time and eternity feed our soul. Both time and our spirit are raised above the laws of nature and function invisibly, more real than the reality of the senses. Our soul's bond with eternity makes time essential for its survival, because time has carried our soul for far longer than our body has carried it. Regular contact with eternal things gives perspective to our soul and a foothold for our heart, so that we more easily integrate the unseen with the seen. God too exists in timelessness, and we come from Him. Of course the soul will struggle if not enough opportunity is made for its earthly reality to overlap with this original feeding vein.

The more we make contact with the content of our existence — and the less important the form of it — the more slowly and more mercifully we will experience time's assault on our existence. Because there is less to resist. Our body is only the point of contact with the material, because the lessons we must learn in order to make our spirit strong and resilient come to us through the body. Illness, pain and mistreatment strike the person there first. The natural world is full of shortages, disasters and scarcities. In the supernatural it is the other way round. Everything you give away there, you get more of back.

Time is actually only a perception, or a disposition. If you want more of it, you must change your attitude, or sometimes you have to sow it (give it away) for a better harvest. Most of our disappointment comes from this: that we identify too strongly with the body and with the material things that maintain its dynamic, instead of identifying just as strongly with our spirit. The helplessness with which a baby is born — usually crying — is already a hint that this journey was meant to make the scales fall from our eyes. And we forget that time is no respecter of money, or of death. The powerful and the well-off cannot negotiate with it for more. The body will yield beneath the pressure of time, and we will come to know: we were here so that we could learn togetherness. Then our substance will be poured into a new form — through which time can move — and communion will be complete.

Groete Amanda Kreitzer