Turn Around?

I have just a small bit of advice for you today.  Don’t turn around.  I have discovered that each time I turn around, it is tomorrow.  I cannot seem to stay in today.  Actually, just a blink will take me from today into tomorrow.  Do you know how difficult it can be to avoid turnarounds or blinking?

You might start worrying that I have lost more than a day, but no, I am just suddenly very much aware of how quickly time is moving on around me.  That is what happens, I think, when one is busy.  One forgets to pay attention to movements while enjoying a beautiful blue moon, or walking in the sun, or simply just living.  However much I tell myself that it is good to live in the moment, I fear that doing so is causing time to pass without my being aware of it.

When I have this figured out, I will turn around and let you know.

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Me-nachronism

The daily word today was “anachronism”, and I suddenly knew something about myself!  I am a person out of time.  I live in the future because I can imagine various me’s in different futures.  I live in the past because I have many many seemingly contradictory memories of who I have been.  I live in the present only to the extent that sometimes I wake up and I live a new me that might (in some rather long shot possibility) fit within current time.

This is really quite wonderful!  Lovely not to be stuck in my same old, same old–unless I choose to do so–in which case it is not a matter of being stuck.  This newly discovered freedom to be who and when and what I choose to be opens possibilities for adventures that will turn imagination into reality, however briefly.

Try it! Become an anachronism for a minute or two.

The Eternal Present

In  a novel I read recently (Children of God, by Mary Doria Russell), I came across this statement by one of the characters:  “live in the eternal present–triumph over time”.  It made me stop reading and think again about time.  I have, in the past, commented that by living in the present moment, there is no past and no future (at least I think I have made that comment).  But it never occurred to me that such an eternal present can be thought of as a triumph over time itself.

It does raise a question:  do we really want to triumph over time?  Without a future to consider, would there be a need for imagination?  Without a past to consider, would there be a need for reconciliation?  Truly, time would be an unnecessary concept if we all simply lived in the now–but we give up ourselves by so doing.  With no past, there is no memory.  With no memory, how do we know who we are (or is that even important)?  I think life would be as nothing in that eternal present, however easy it might seem to slip into it and not be concerned about anything but now.

Definitely it is “time” to reconsider time.  Eternally.

Time, Re-bottled

Thinking again about time.  And memories.  I know the two are linked (see Time, in a Bottle), and it seems time to revisit that link.  Start with the idea that there is no Time.  None.  Then, who am I?  Where am I?  Am I in a when?  If so, how are whens formed?  My theory:  whens are time.  And they are created by my remembering something that happened to me.  Remember enough whens, and you have my time.

Time, then, is personal.  Each of us remembers something, creating a when and putting it in a bottle.  Stack those bottles and you have your time.  My time is not your time, not at all.  But, there may be memories of shared whens, and it might feel like we share time too.  But all we share is one bottle, one memory, when our personal times came together.  Even though there may be more than that one bottle, more whens in which we shared a moment and created a memory, still, my time is mine and yours is yours.

There may be whens  we would like to share with another person.  To create such a plan requires some common construct of “time”, so we can say, “meet me at the corner tomorrow at ten”.  We have to have a shared idea of what “ten” is for that to work.  So, we humans have constructed an elaborate structure that we have agreed to use so that we can create shared memories.  These can then be bottled and so become personal time.

This theory may explain why time seems to slow down and speed up.  The more bottles of memory I save, the slower my time.  We can choose what we want to remember, and that choice can be made at any point in my personal time–immediately and forever, or forgotten until remembered in some future when.

The important thing is that my whens are mine.  Time is personal.  But I can choose to sometimes place my time within that superstructure that allows us to share a when and hence a memory.

And no, I have not been drinking.