Adam’s Flourglass

Adam Valen Levinson sadly passed this Thanksgiving.

He left us a pile of notes and scribbles, jottings and audio clips, neatly arranged by date.

His writings are a treasure trove of deep humanity, of reflection, thoughts and counter thoughts, musings and ruminations. I picked out one piece, a poem that made me stop and sit up.

With Adam’s posthumous permission, I’d like to name his untitled poem ‘Flourglass’.

Time is like this:

like that sand dripping.
but it isn’t in an hourglass, ready to be tipped upright and restarted.

it escapes as if from a sack of flour, falling exactly where you stand.
this is why we run around: to find something for the sand to fall into.

some people stand in the same place; and when they are finished, there is a big pile. it may not have much shape, but it is proof of a continued existence.

some people run around frantically; and the sand is so scattered it blends with everything else that is, and disappears.

some people develop systems and build clear, organized piles. many of them, in geometric shapes.
some are frantic but do wonderful things, whirling and whirling…

some use the obstacles of the world and build things with them; they spend time finding particular places to be, they make innovative shapes, they do not worry when the bag will run out (or perhaps they do) and they move methodically…

and some find others and make immense piles… maybe they are ugly; maybe they are pointless, but the teams don’t care because they have made the piles together.