Where in the world did October go? September sped by in a blur. And August was gone in a flash. How did that happen? Where did the time go? The weeks and months, it seems, just melted into each other. But each single day seemed endless.
Last week I bumped into my neighbors, Tim and Andrea, as I was out walking my pup, Poppy, in the morning and they were leaving for work. We stood around chatting for a few minutes, and then we each proceeded with our day. It was a long and tiring day -- for me, at least. Filled with work and play, stress and pressure, spirit and pleasure.
Late that same evening, I was out with the dog for her bedtime stroll and once again saw Tim and Andrea as they were getting home from work, dinner and a couple of sets of jazz at a music club. Again, we hung around and talked. I said something like, "When I saw you guys last week... " and Tim interrupted me saying, "That was this morning!"
How could that be? It seemed like forever ago. I did a bazillion things since I last saw them. Time is such a slippery scoundrel. It is impossible to pin it down long enough to grab hold of it. It just keeps slithering away.
Time is a paradox, at once temporary and permanent, external and internal, objective and subjective. And it is so confusing. Days that are weeks long and filled with 10,000 million things. Weeks, which seem like seconds, fleeting and ephemeral.
As Albert Einstein explains it, "When you sit with a nice girl for two hours, it seems like two minutes. When you sit on a hot stove for two minutes, it seems like two hours. That's relativity."
Time is at once universal and intensely personal. It surrounds us and is, at the same time, deep within us. It's surging rhythmic force moves the entire world and us, as well. The throbbing tempo of the universe reverberates in each beat of our heart.
Its clear cadence, the repeated patterns of light and dark, high tide and low, growth and death, evident in the natural order, is echoed in our own bodies, our biorhythms, our blood. Our internally alternating cycles of activity and rest, energy and mood, sleep and dream, hunger and hormone. The oscillating pulse of the planets surges through our veins, and we vibrate in time with the stars.
Duplicitous in its definitions, time flies and time stands still. Time passes but is forever. Time creates. Time maintains. Time destroys. We save time, we waste time, we keep time, we lose time, we kill time, we make time, we take time out.
Time is a sneaky thief, hell-bent on racing toward our mortality. The only way that we can outsmart it is by savoring every precious moment by being fully conscious, focused and conscientious in each passing second. By being here now, consciously alive in the eternal present.
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Even as a 9-year-old kid, I felt time was subjective, and would often think, "What I'm experiencing now will be the distant past in what will feel like the blink of an eye" (gives you an idea of what kind of kid I was... :-P ).
Yet, waiting for a delayed train isa nearly unbearable agony to me; I'm drawn up from my book and need to stare down the dark tunnel until the moment a hint of light hits the track. (Then, of course, I can relax and enjoy the book.)
Last year, I read an NPR article called "How to Live Forever" which made a facetious case for trying new things to make time "last longer": Once you are expert at a thing, you can do it automatically, which makes time pass more quickly. The discomfort of trying new things slows you down and makes time drag.
I addressed this in my own blog http://t.co/SATuByOt finding that depth and richness of each moment, when one is passionate about one's activity, can create the best of both worlds -- time seems to evaporate in the endeavor, and yet it feels like one has lived through a transformative age in its accomplishment.
But, yes I agree with Mr. Einstein. The good times in our lives seem to go by quickly while difficult times feel as if they are dragging.