Dusty

Warm weather, I rolled up sleeves and trousers and had a bit of a tidy, sweeping the shop floor of its dust and shavings.
I think it was Stephen Hawking going on about "the arrow of time" in one of his books. Apparently that "arrow" points the direction of all things toward a less organized state letting us know which way is up in terms of time running from now until tomorrow instead of vice versa.
While making these doors or other objects a huge swirl of dust and shavings seems to confirm the theory of the arrow’s flight. Much of the beautiful organized record of the tree's life is jumbled into junk and falls to the floor of the shop, but a tiny part of that swirl remains as the object created. If there is an arrow of time I guess my role like all other living things is just to stall it for a while on its journey, steering it off course in a little circle or on a broader scale running errands in a cycle of birth and death. Many years from now the wood I saved from that yard the other month will hopefully still remain as a door frame on a house in Japan. Meanwhile the shavings and dust in the box here have gone into the fire and will later go on to the field to be partaken of by some other life form. On this planet we have a lot of time arrows circling about as wonderful creatures powered by the sun and born from a jumble of dirt that they later return to.
Everything is everything because everything changes.