The more I consider it, the less certain I am that humans are well-equipped to fully accept the passage of time. We love it when it fits our assumptions about advancement and the lineality of progress. But what if progress (personal, social, financial, professional, etc) stalls and time keeps going? Then, it stings. Too often it becomes easier to push looming eternity to the background and replace it with platitudes and illusion.
Do animals have concepts of time? Does a bear wake up every day and know that his life is finite? When an antelope gives birth, is she aware that she has a limited amount of time with her offspring, or that it is essentially her replacement? Or does their consciousness only include the imperative to survive, to survive at all costs and for as long as they can?
I think about time a lot. Probably more than a healthy amount. Our helplessness in the face of time's inexorable pressure is one of my favorites. For instance, I'm older than I used to be. And while I don't feel too different than I did, say, ten, or even five, years ago, there are little hints.
I don't sleep as well as I used to.
I've begun to snore consistently.
I can see parts of my forehead that haven't always been visible.
There are more, but this isn't a "pity me because I'm getting older" blog. I've accepted the fact of aging. When my mother wasn't thrilled to be turning fifty, I reminded her that the only alternative was to die, and forty-nine was much too young. We all get older, unless we stop, and you can't fight that, so why try?
In six months I'll turn thirty years old. My life is basically nothing like what I expected it would be when I was twenty-five. Twenty-five was basically nothing like I expected it would be when I was twenty. Oh well; it's not my style to freak out about that. Every choice I've made has led me here, and that's alright, because I learned a long time ago to take ownership of my life. Where I am may not be where I want to be, but that's alright; I'll get there.
The clock is ticking, and the fuse is burning. I'm not an animal whose only goals are to eat and to not be eaten. But I won't become time's slave, either. Time is pitiless, merciless, yet the only way we can experience true love is through its passage.
Time is tight.
