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42-15208908 time-warp I am reminded today of just how much time and lifespan is a matter of perspective. I blink and the day is gone. I am asked to help so and so with such and such and when I look back at the clock, time has passed quicker then I imagined. It is a one way trip, and the older we get, the quicker time moves, incrementally to our inevitable end: a stopped watch that can’t be rewound. What we do with out limited time is further slicked and diced by our need to engage in the mundane and ordinary just to make ends meet: a meeting here, a pointless email there and filling out forms that help up accomplish almost nothing extra in our lives. At the end of the day, or here in the States: at the end of the middle of the day we are left exhausted from running around trying to complete busywork and have nothing to show for our efforts. So we fall back, flick on television ‘for a little while’ and start to eat our meals devoid of nutrition and flavor. The food, long bereft of nourishment, now serves as habit, a filler of whole deeper then the void in our stomachs and emptier then the fabric of space itself.

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maria-kozlova-inclusion-exclusion-child-at-play-copy Time, human time, is less comparable to a wind up clock then it is a kid riding a luge down a steep mountain with a wall at the end and with no means of braking. We start off moving slowly, learning everything as we go, in wonderment at our situation and excited at the prospects of new things. The time lasts forever and the sun never seems to set when we play outside. Homework takes forever and so does the time we spend goofing off to avoid it. As we age, the homework is done faster, the sun moves across the sky at a blistering pace and we are no longer trying to get a whole day to play but merely “an hour or two” for entertainment and enjoyment from our busy lives.

 

dp1770678 The moment we get past puberty, we no longer measure time in relative grandness of ‘forever and ever’ but in ‘5 more minutes’ and ‘ 10 minutes till lunch’. We hope and seemingly try to negotiate with our being for the ability to grasp at smaller and smaller segments of time, in a vain believe that if we can make 1 more minute last and be measured, that we’d have more of them. Time allows us to measure it but at a cost. Those segments of ‘4 hours before lunch’, ‘30 minutes to get back’ and ‘15 minutes till closing’ add up to more then their fare share as it slips past us. An 8 hour workday takes 12 or more as we need time to prepare in the mornings, eat midday, come home and unwind. In no short amount of time we see ourselves go from our classroom days to nearly child rearing age with nary a productive year to show for it, nor memories deemed worthy of a wasted decade. Then we raise the next batch and live through them, for our time is not our own anymore. We become part of another group oddly familiar, one which we rebelled against as a youth and vowed never to be like, only to find ourselves back in that chaos: this time as the cause and not as the recipient.

angry-old-person We blink, those offspring are all grown and if we’re lucky enough to survive the journey, we are back to our own devices, listless and restless. Bored from an apparent eternity of putting things off in favor of other things, and now with nothing to use as a reason to put off our hope and dreams. We sit and stare blankly at our walls, littered with pictures of a life we apparently spent doing things we can not recall. We remember all those things that we wanted to do and how we would have done them differently if we had that second chance. But there is no going back so we try to tell the next litter and their litter on the ways of the world and what they should do to better themselves and enjoy the ride. They ignore the advice, just as you did when you were young. After all they say ; “ this is a new generation, we have a clean slate to start from scratch and do it right this time, and our way will be the right way as long as we don’t take your wisdom!” You smile and laugh at the impetuousness of your seed, confident that one day they’ll understand and they’ll remember the advice they should have taken, just as you remember it now, only that it will be too late to turn back.

 

luge_141 For the luge is nearing the wall at the bottom of the mountain, the street rolling faster then can be seen, the objects now a blur and unknown. The memories and ability to drive were long ago lost in a fog somewhere higher up that mountain. There is no going back, there is no braking now, there is only that brick wall ahead, ready to stop you and time itself. You couldn’t drive around it if you wanted to, but you don’t want to continue going faster down another mountain. You’ve had it with driving, with holding on, with remembering and doing the pointless things. For one short moment you start to enjoy the feeling of being so fast, of still not crashing. You think of all those who crashed before they reached this part of the road and you thank your lucky stars you had those few extra miles and better steering and well, plain old luck. 1294072365a9WFCN

The you arrive at the wall. Well you really don’t know if you’ve arrived. It happened so fast you couldn’t really experience it, nor would you want to. Some things are better left a mystery. But you know one thing before you go: time will make fools of us all.

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Written by Josecito

February 24, 2011 at 8:11 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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