Have you ever experienced a song in such a timely manner that it sends shivers down your spine? Perhaps it’s a familiar tune you’ve listened to countless times, yet in a specific moment, it suddenly resonates with you on a deeper level, offering a newfound significance. This occurred to me recently during a long run. I was listening to “Time Stand Still” by Rush, and it played just as I was between the third and fourth mile of a ten-mile run I was completing that day.
I can predict what is going through my wife’s head as she reads this, Rush sucks! I took her to see the Canadian power trio back in 1992 and let’s just say we walked away from the then named Hartford Civic Center having had completely different experiences from that show. While I was beaming with excitement, she looked at me as if to say, You actually enjoy his singing? He sounds like an overly caffeinated feline in the throws of an existential crisis. She was kind enough to think it and not say it; hey, she can say a lot with a look!
I get that the band isn’t everyone’s cup of Tim Horton’s coffee (or tea), but yes I love everything about the band; Neal Peart’s monster drumming and powerful lyrics, Alex Lifeson’s riffs and melodic solos, Geddy Lee’s legendary bass lines, and, yes, even his wide vocal range!
Time Stand Still is strategically placed on my half marathon playlist at a time when I’m sufficiently warmed up and ready to increase my pace to the tempo I will keep for the majority of a race until I’m ready to put the pedal down for the last couple of miles. That crisp, cool morning (about 22 degrees Fahrenheit), the song hit me differently.
I turn my back to the wind
To catch my breath, before I start up again
Driven on without a moment to spend
To pass an evening with a drink and a friend
I let my skin get too thin
I’d like to pause, no matter what I pretend
Like some pilgrim, who learns to transcend
Learns to live as if each step was the end
To say that it’s been a year is putting it mildly. There were a few high points, including starting a new job with J.P. Morgan Chase in March, running my third half marathon May (The Brooklyn Half—my first NYC half!!), and my twin brother’s wedding in June, which was the high point of the summer. Sadly, this was followed by my older brother’s passing later that month. Life seemed to spiral after that and I had a hard time doing very basic tasks. Getting out of bed was a challenge, as was staying awake throughout the day. With the support of my family, though, and some spiritual guidance from a very kind and insightful priest (shout out to FDR), I began to climb out of the funk that had taken over me, and the year marched on.
Time stand still
I’m not looking back but I want to look around me now
Time stand still
See more of the people and the places that surround me now
Time stand still
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Experience slips away
Experience slips away
Time stand still
Unlike the character in the song, I was looking back. How could I not? I felt robbed by Greg’s death (and still do). To borrow one of Greg’s lines, cancer is a stupid jerk! If I could have made time stand still when he was alive, just to spend more time with him, I would have. Sadly, I spent more time with him during the three days before he died than I had in the months prior. I’d gladly freeze time just to spend more of it with him. Perhaps that is selfish of me, but this thought was going through my head as my feet propelled me forward on a cool February morning. Though I wasn’t just focused on looking through my rearview mirror, I was also looking around me.
If there’s one gift Greg’s passing gave me, it was a new perspective on my own life. He found such beauty in simple things, things that I, at worst, ignored or, at best, took for granted. His passing encouraged me to pause, look around, and appreciate all I have vs. dwell upon all I wanted. I never really understood what Jesus meant when he said, “The kingdom of God is within you.” My brother’s passing helped me understand that more. We are conditioned to want what we don’t have, when all we really need is within us.
I turn my face to the sun
Close my eyes, let my defenses down
All those wounds that I can’t get unwound
I let my past go too fast
No time to pause
If I could slow it all down
Like some Captain whose ship runs aground
I can wait until the tide comes around
Time stand still
I’m not looking back but I want to look around me now
Time stand still
See more of the people and the places that surround me now
Letting my past go too fast is a line that hit me right in the chest. I often feel as if I’ve been rushing through life. When I was in college, I couldn’t wait to get out and start “My life.” When I was early in my career, I was inpatient for advancement, often hopping jobs to reach that next level faster. When my kids (triplets) were born, I couldn’t wait for them to reach some kind of independence to make life “easier” (boy was I wrong about that one). In short, I was always in a rush (pun totally intended) to get to the next phase, whatever that was, that I didn’t take the time to truly enjoy the magical moments that were unfolding all around me.
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Make each impression a little bit stronger
Freeze this motion a little bit longer
The innocence slips away
The innocence slips away
Time stand still
Time stand still
I’m not looking back but I want to look around me now
See more of the people and the places that surround me now
That’s what I should have been saying to myself instead of impatiently wanting to move on to something else. I should have just wanted time to stand still. Innocence—we are all born with it but, as life goes on, wow does it ever slip away until one day you wake up and realize you are doing it all wrong and that your actions and behaviors are no longer in line with your attitudes, values, and beliefs—and isn’t that a kick in the shorts? It’s a sobering moment when that happens and you have two choices to make—for me it was, do I continue to keep living inauthentically or do I look at the person staring back at me in the mirror who I barely recognize and say, “No soup for you?” I don’t always get it right, but recently I’ve been channeling my inner soup nazi.
Summer’s going fast
Nights growing colder
Children growing up
Old friends growing older
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Experience slips away
Experience slips away
The innocence slips away
Those triplets I wrote about a few paragraphs ago are about to graduate from college and recently I’ve been having vivid dreams about them as babies and toddlers. I suppose that’s my subconscious helping me see what I may have missed out on when I was so eager for them to grow up. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy all the adventures we had when they were younger, but I never dreamed just how fast the time would go by. And now they are ready to launch into the next phase of their life and all I want to do is shout, There’s no rush. It’s not really all that it’s cracked up to be.
Time marches on, though, and I find myself just half a year away from a milestone birthday. Rush’s lyricist Neil Peart’s phrasing of summer going fast and nights growing colder isn’t lost on me—I likely have more years behind me than I do in front of me. Winter may not be coming for me just yet but it will get me some day and while I do not intend to go gently into that endless winter’s night (Fun Rush fact, Peart did paraphrase Dylan Thomas in Red Tide), when the time comes I don’t want to look back on the life I lived feeling as if I didn’t do something meaningful with the time I had and the gifts I’ve been given.
I struggled to experience happiness for many years as I defined it as something I had to find on the outside. I would think to myself, happiness will come when I have X or when I achieve Y. If only I could get [insert name of any of the important people in my life] to see my way on an issue or my point of view, things will get better. I was wrong. My happiness is not anyone else’s responsibility and it certainly isn’t something that comes from anything external. The big lesson I learned in the past year is that real, lasting happiness comes when we live in such a way that our behavior matches our values. I didn’t always live that way and I’d be dishonest if I claimed to always get it right now, but I’m a lot better at it than I used to be.
Time stand still
I’m not looking back
But I want to look around me now
See more of the people
And the places that surround me now
Time stand still
If the spiritual masters across multiple faith traditions are to be believed, we do not need to wait until the dying of the light to experience the gifts that await in the world that is to come. Multiple spiritual leaders (and near death experiencers who believe they’ve been there) characterize an afterlife as being full of light, love, and radiant joy and that it is inside us if we do the work to look for it. It took me fifty years of living, one tragic death, more than a few lessons learned the hard way, and a progressive rock song to help me realize that.
I am now taking the time to breathe more deeply and appreciate the world’s beauty around me. Simultaneously, I’m exploring within myself, rekindling the inner light that I know exists but had been dimmed by my actions over time. I am making a concerted effort to recognize this light within others as well, understanding that I’m not unique in this regard—if it exists within me, it surely exists within everyone. This light is present in the family member whose choices frustrate me, in the challenging coworker who makes everyone tread lightly, in everyone I’ve hurt, and even in those who have hurt me. Perhaps, by acknowledging and nurturing this universal light in each other, we can inch closer to experiencing a slice of heaven on Earth.
Time stand still
I’m not looking back
But I want to look around me now
See more of the people
And the places that surround me now
Time stand still
