When the right song finds you, the world rearranges itself into poetry. While exiting Shaw’s parking lot the other day, I heard what I consider Enya’s best song, Only Time.
Who can say where the road goes,
where the day flows, only time?
And who can say if your love grows,
as your heart chose, only time?
The atmosphere was appropriately misty, the kind of weather I’d imagine Enya herself living in, padding the stone halls of her castle, sound echoing softly through the fog.


The song is so beautiful, all cotton-ball syncopation and harmonies that can lift you right out of the narrows of your thinking and into the free terrain of dreams.
And the message, that time is the ultimate decider, somehow manages not to sound fatalistic. Instead, it opens doors of possibility and cherishes the power at your fingertips. It celebrates the time that is alive in you, not only now, but also in the sweetness of memories already made and the potential of those still to come.
What she captures is my favorite quality of time: its invitational quality. Time doesn’t just pass by, it invites one to play with it.
Heraclitus famously said, “Time is a game played beautifully by children”. This is the feeling that I get from Enya’s song about time.
When I got home, it was raining. Mist surrounded all of our landscape. With time’s invitation in mind, I asked Geo a basically rhetorical question:
“Do you want to do a rain dance?”
“YESSSSS!!”

Long live cinematic time. And Radio.

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