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speak friend and enter
вторник, февраля 01, 2005
Time
Time seems to fly alot faster as we get older. I remember when an hour used to be a really long time- especially when it was spent practicing scales on the piano. Its fascinating how we all experience that dimension of time (we age together) as humanity, yet that the rate we experience it, doesn't quite seem all that uniform. And no, it isn't uniform, as dear Einstein showed. It can be relative- experienced time depends on the physical velocity experienced. What a bother.
As the only [mathematical-physical] dimension that only runs forwards and doesn't run backwards, we are all locked into it. We are forced to trudge onwards, heedless, merciless, heartless. It does not wait. No, we cannot stop.
I guess when we're young, an hour seems relatively longer because we've experienced less time. Imagine- for a 2hr old baby, its last hour was half its lifetime! What's an hour's wait when you're ninety?
It's odd. I used to be able to do alot more in an hour than I realize doing now. I could have two lessons in school, watch two sit-coms happily. An hour would have made excellent workout on the ivories- my daily grind. A ten minute nap would have been enough. Weeks used to be long, fully lived-out experiences, every turn of the wheel, every creak and click fully conscious. It seemed so full.
Time seems more crowded out as we get older- more things to do, less time there is. Where has it gone? So many little foxes gnawing at the vines. Weeks seem to cycle a tad fast. So much we have done, but how much more is enough?
What? Its February already? Whatever happened to 2004? Where did it go?
The grains continue to run. Our enzymatic processes continue burning. We age. The coiled spring slowly unwinds. Thoughts mature, our character begins to show. Slowly, without warning, we realize we can't do quite the things we used to do. I can no longer play Chopin, nor Bach, nor Mozart. I can, however, hear great stuff in my head, understand how the music works. Maybe that's better? Not having to play it out. Only listening to your mind play it out.
So many things, so little time. So many relationships and disciplines to mind, so many unchecked.
Time becomes experienced as experience, no longer for what it is- the present compared to the past, the future compared to the present. Where am I, where did I come from, where am I going.
Existence becomes Being, instead of Doing.
What will last when time finally runs its course? When we finally reach the end of our course? Where will we be, what will we be doing? Time as a dimension ceases to exist when we meet with our Creator, who holds time, a creation, merely within his palms. Only Him, who exists beyond the boundaries of time, will know our paths, at each decision, at each fork in the road. He knows our beginning, he knows how we end. He knows the very paths we take. When we think of that which is beyond time, there is only our Creator. Oddly, he's waiting for us there, yet very present at each passing moment.
Before we were, He is. Wonderful, isn't it?
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12
Time seems to fly alot faster as we get older. I remember when an hour used to be a really long time- especially when it was spent practicing scales on the piano. Its fascinating how we all experience that dimension of time (we age together) as humanity, yet that the rate we experience it, doesn't quite seem all that uniform. And no, it isn't uniform, as dear Einstein showed. It can be relative- experienced time depends on the physical velocity experienced. What a bother.
As the only [mathematical-physical] dimension that only runs forwards and doesn't run backwards, we are all locked into it. We are forced to trudge onwards, heedless, merciless, heartless. It does not wait. No, we cannot stop.
I guess when we're young, an hour seems relatively longer because we've experienced less time. Imagine- for a 2hr old baby, its last hour was half its lifetime! What's an hour's wait when you're ninety?
It's odd. I used to be able to do alot more in an hour than I realize doing now. I could have two lessons in school, watch two sit-coms happily. An hour would have made excellent workout on the ivories- my daily grind. A ten minute nap would have been enough. Weeks used to be long, fully lived-out experiences, every turn of the wheel, every creak and click fully conscious. It seemed so full.
Time seems more crowded out as we get older- more things to do, less time there is. Where has it gone? So many little foxes gnawing at the vines. Weeks seem to cycle a tad fast. So much we have done, but how much more is enough?
What? Its February already? Whatever happened to 2004? Where did it go?
The grains continue to run. Our enzymatic processes continue burning. We age. The coiled spring slowly unwinds. Thoughts mature, our character begins to show. Slowly, without warning, we realize we can't do quite the things we used to do. I can no longer play Chopin, nor Bach, nor Mozart. I can, however, hear great stuff in my head, understand how the music works. Maybe that's better? Not having to play it out. Only listening to your mind play it out.
So many things, so little time. So many relationships and disciplines to mind, so many unchecked.
Time becomes experienced as experience, no longer for what it is- the present compared to the past, the future compared to the present. Where am I, where did I come from, where am I going.
Existence becomes Being, instead of Doing.
What will last when time finally runs its course? When we finally reach the end of our course? Where will we be, what will we be doing? Time as a dimension ceases to exist when we meet with our Creator, who holds time, a creation, merely within his palms. Only Him, who exists beyond the boundaries of time, will know our paths, at each decision, at each fork in the road. He knows our beginning, he knows how we end. He knows the very paths we take. When we think of that which is beyond time, there is only our Creator. Oddly, he's waiting for us there, yet very present at each passing moment.
Before we were, He is. Wonderful, isn't it?
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12
