homam.alba 
Have you ever had a fleeting thought accompanied by an unrelenting eagerness to write it down. To document it. Make it history I suppose…I suppose this falls in that category. Have you ever felt like you have been robbed of those precious moments, when you found the time to chase a train of thought on paper. They feel like a tremendous luxury now. It is one thing to willfully let those reverberating thoughts flee the halls of your mind. It is something completely different for them to be usurped. Lately, I often feel like a hypochondriac, and my ailment is lack of time. Though. I know, if time had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t have pitied me. I picture time as matter of fact, unforgiving, kind of person. “Time and memory are true artists; they remould reality nearer to the heart’s desire” (John Dewey).
I have had a strange start to the new year.Right in the middle of my 35th year. The thirties have been truly ripe with epiphanies. One month ago – oddly feeling like an eternal Déjà vu ago – and as I started writing a procedure note, I asked a colleague: “Today is…the 4th, am I right?” She nodded in agreement. I continued writing without lifting my head and mused: “..before you know it, it will be December 2019”. She dismissed the thought as silly. Fast forward to a week or two later, I run into my Masters Program director, whom I consider to epitomize optimism and collegiality, and he says with his typical chuckle “Feels like we are running into the new year”. I couldn’t agree more.
2019 will be a good year, full of discovery. Oddly enough it coincides with my Chinese zodiac year. The year of the Pig. If I could argue for zodiacs, even though I don’t believe in its alleged clairvoyance, I would say, if we all originated in the Big Bang, then perhaps our coordinates in this time and place of a universe do mean something. Just maybe.
