Still pondering that David Eagleman article I wrote about the other day on time, and will eventually get to the bit on drummers I found interesting, but tonight it’s a different angle that has me twisting in the wind when I should be sleeping.
That bit about time going faster when it’s the familiar around us makes sense in ways I’m feeling these days. Maybe it’s the fact I have a birthday in a couple of months. Perhaps it’s the time I spend with Sam and Cj. Who knows? But what it’s boiling down to is a linking of age and time and how that makes it go so bloody fast.
Does it not make sense that time is relative, and not only to the spinning planet and ancient universe, but also to each individual? Sure, in geological terms a human life is an eye blink, as how could any of us even begin to comprehend the eons needed to carve a Grand Canyon or push India up against the Himalayas? We barely have the patience to wait to see how our own little dramas play out, so how the hell can we incorporate the truly slow grind or non-linear time that has the grind happening ahead as well as behind us?
I’m beginning to see life as through a telescope. When we’re young, we put the “wrong” end to our eye so everything seems so far away, beyond the chance of touch and so densely crammed into the picture that details are difficult to make out. As we age, it’s the other lens we gaze into, the one that brings things closer, and as we become progressively more familiar with what we behold, we begin to range wider for new sights to examine.
Time, it seems, telescopes as well. At ten, one year is a tenth of life. By 50, that percentage is so greatly reduced that there’s no wonder one Christmas seems to follow another with barely enough time to put a shopping list together in between.
At twenty we’re rushing toward life, anxious to get started on whatever path our feet might find. At sixty we’re wishing we hadn’t run those gamuts so quickly and have grown too aware of the speed the ground is passing under our feet.
Can’t we all … all of us of a certain age … recall the huge abyss that lay between eleven and twenty-one while wondering where the hell decade between thirty and forty got to? For sure Mick Jagger sings “Time Is On Our Side” with a far different take on the lyrics now, and I won’t even mention how “When I’m Sixty-Four” feels as that decade looms. (That was, after all, “many years from now … “)
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
~William Shakespeare
And tomorrow comes just that much faster the more you’ve had …
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
I prefer not to think about it, but yes. The time from 10 to 21 took forever. From 40 to 50? Seems like 6 months.
When we were 18, anyone over 30 was old. Now they are young.
*sigh* Unfotunately, “time and tide…” and all that, so carpe diem!
Time. Tide. Sand. Wind. Sun. Fire. Whatevahhhhh…
I know what you mean Sandra and if I listen to the medical and insurance underwriters I’ve lost 10 years due to the medical condition I have, so I’m not going to listen to them, still the thought does creep in every now and then (like now).
As for time slowly down when we are children, I wonder if it has to do with children living in the present moment. When we are children, all we are concerned with is the moment. It seems as though our thoughts and feelings stay in the moment never venturing to the past or future. Fear, worry, stress, regret weren’t involved. Don’t know for sure though. Every now and then I try present moment awareness. It’s a challenge.
You and I had very different childhoods, then, Marianne. Be grateful for yours …
Being grateful for my childhood is a stretch, on the other hand I’m not ungrateful for it either. It’s been a life-long process of dealing with the effects of emotionally-physically abusive and non-emotionally available parents combined with alcoholism and depression. To say I loved my parents while growing up would be a lie.
Still, I remember summers spent away from home doing my own thing, never giving my situation a moments thought and feeling like I had all the time in the world. I tried to spend as much time as possible away from home.
Maybe I’ve just always been a worrier by nature …
It may not be much consulation, Marianne, but my parents fought every school holidays I was home from boarding school and finally commited suicide 6 months apart when I was 15 (my mother after several attempts).
I always took the view my life was mine to make, not going to be a result of their choices.
Ah, another childhood from the pages of a horror novel. Those TV shows just never quite summed up the reality, did they?
Not really. I was rather reasonably graphic when I wrote about my mother’s demise. Between our childhoods J and I have a book, let alone the rest of it. Problem is, it isn’t a novel.
Somethings just can’t be made up, as as fiction the tale would be unbelievable.
So sorry to hear about your childhood. I know I’m not alone. Horror stories are quite common it seems. Many people have been through a lot of sh-t.
Time seemed to stand still when I was a kid living in the moment. As an adult, I spent many years regretting the past, worrying about the future, stressing about my situation and time seemed to zip by. Now, I remind myself to be in the present moment and time slows down. I remind myself to get all I can out of this moment even if it is when I’m in excruciating pain from disease. I can’t believe how non-stressed I am now. I’m realizing more and more how everything comes from the mind (thoughts).
Thank you Sandra for your writing and your authenticity. I really appreciate you.
Living in the moment … Hm. As soon as that happens, it’s over and I find myself looking forward to the next.
Thanks, Marianne. I appreciate you, too!
~sighs~ I feel old…
Well, you’re not. You’re 30, Bobby and still looking through that end of the telescope that has somethings seeming far away.
Sandra, this must be you, the only mother I knew in middle school who thought about matters of the DEEP. Sorry about the weird internet conduit. I’d much prefer an old fashion phone call. Remember me, Janel, Jennifer’s friend… we went to Kit Carson together….. Think of you you guys often, and what a sanity joint your house was for me at the time.
Have lost touch with Jenny in total….last I heard she was down south.
Your writing is good. I enjoy it! Hope everyone is doing great!
Janel!!! Of course I remember you! In fact more often than you could imagine, since a song that plays almost daily in my car is called “Janel” and brings you to mind.
I’ll email you with info on some of the water under the bridge.
Thanks for reconnecting.
perhaps that is what is wrong with me, have always been looking through the wrong end of the telescope!
Nah … you’re just not great at squinting …