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| Original Cover of Walden |
Time is relative.
Isn’t everything? It’s all a matter of perspective and perception. Newton said,“Time is absolute, flowing uniformly for all observers," and that it is related to gravity and velocity. Hello, Einstein and Newton. I do not understand Einstein’s Theory of Relativity or Newton’s concept of Absolute Time.
Isn’t everything? It’s all a matter of perspective and perception. Newton said,“Time is absolute, flowing uniformly for all observers," and that it is related to gravity and velocity. Hello, Einstein and Newton. I do not understand Einstein’s Theory of Relativity or Newton’s concept of Absolute Time.
I do know our experience of time is slower when we are enduring things unpleasant or boring, and faster when enjoying the joyful and pleasant things in life. I also believe when we look back on our lives, we will feel our time on earth was short (if not "nasty and brutish," as philosopher Thomas Hobbs famously characterized it).
John Lennon once described time simply as, "that which keeps everything from happening at once. Imagine that!
“Time is a but a stream I go a-fishing in.” Hello, Henry David Thoreau, whose thoughts are far easier to grasp than are Einstein’s, Newton’s, or John Lennon’s for that matter. Thoreau’s statement in Walden: or a Life in Woods is worth further consideration, as is his other observation that, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." Thoreau's description of time as a stream to go fishing in suggests that time just "IS," and we can leisurely cast in and out of its eternal waters, pulling out what we will without an awareness of time itself.
In Walden, he reminds us of the “way of the world,” with its desperations, urgencies, distractions and pre-occupations. How much more so is it now, with the nation/world in seeming chaos, and we, often rushing around to “get it all done”—maybe stressed, anxious and sometimes neglectful of more important demands and pleasures of the mind, heart, soul, of each other, and the gifts of nature?
What would Thoreau have to say about we live now? We live by the calendar and clock for our day, week, month and year, looking ahead to whatever work we must complete, or event to prepare for: an upcoming birthday, a holiday, a social event, getting children off to school, and ourselves to our jobs. We must fight traffic; catch a flight; prepare a report; or a meal; pay bills; make phone calls; keep appointments.
“Time is a but a stream I go a-fishing in.” Hello, Henry David Thoreau, whose thoughts are far easier to grasp than are Einstein’s, Newton’s, or John Lennon’s for that matter. Thoreau’s statement in Walden: or a Life in Woods is worth further consideration, as is his other observation that, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." Thoreau's description of time as a stream to go fishing in suggests that time just "IS," and we can leisurely cast in and out of its eternal waters, pulling out what we will without an awareness of time itself.
In Walden, he reminds us of the “way of the world,” with its desperations, urgencies, distractions and pre-occupations. How much more so is it now, with the nation/world in seeming chaos, and we, often rushing around to “get it all done”—maybe stressed, anxious and sometimes neglectful of more important demands and pleasures of the mind, heart, soul, of each other, and the gifts of nature?
What would Thoreau have to say about we live now? We live by the calendar and clock for our day, week, month and year, looking ahead to whatever work we must complete, or event to prepare for: an upcoming birthday, a holiday, a social event, getting children off to school, and ourselves to our jobs. We must fight traffic; catch a flight; prepare a report; or a meal; pay bills; make phone calls; keep appointments.
When we find time, or make it, we are on our devices with apps downloaded for everything imaginable--scrolling social media or news, playing video games or binge-watching TV.
Yep, we have once again been cast out of The Garden, having taken a huge bite of an Apple of another kind!
There is no end in sight—unless we stop to dip into “the stream," forgetting that time exists at all. Thoreau's thoughts are still relevant today, except that our desperation is not "quiet." It's loud and clear, as the pace of life has escalated exponentially. Thoreau saw where we were headed at the speed of light. And yet, how could he have imagined that we would be headed back to the future, going chronologically forward in time, but stuck in unaddressed grievances from the Civil War, to the censorship of “cancel culture,” ongoing racial, gender, and human rights concerns?
There is no end in sight—unless we stop to dip into “the stream," forgetting that time exists at all. Thoreau's thoughts are still relevant today, except that our desperation is not "quiet." It's loud and clear, as the pace of life has escalated exponentially. Thoreau saw where we were headed at the speed of light. And yet, how could he have imagined that we would be headed back to the future, going chronologically forward in time, but stuck in unaddressed grievances from the Civil War, to the censorship of “cancel culture,” ongoing racial, gender, and human rights concerns?
Don’t get me started!
While we do live in the present, our thoughts are often focused on the past or future. Remaining in the moment is difficult, which becomes obvious when we attempt to meditate or clear our minds of brain chatter. Being in the present seems more possible when we are in love (with a person or a project). Then no one or nothing else exists. Being present also seems more possible when we are with children, who compel us (if we are attentive and follow their lead) to live and love each moment, mostly in play and imagination. To quote another voice: "...the Present is the point at which time touches eternity.” (C. S. Lewis)
I became well aware of the not living in the present when visiting our four-year old grandson, Finn. I told him I would be leaving “tomorrow” and that I would be sad to leave. Without skipping a beat, he said, “It’s not tomorrow now.” The simple truth of his words penetrated my being to realize how I had rather selfishly imposed the future on Finn, when he lives only in the present—the "here and now,” as children do. He challenged me to be truly with him—not to worry about “tomorrow," only the experience the joy of our being together in the here and now.
When my mind is filled with the past and future, or drifts off to realize the absurdity of our existing on a little blue planet spinning madly, orbiting our sun star through dark, cold, infinite space, I have to stop, put up an imaginary "Gone Fishin" sign and sit under a tree, or gaze at the starry sky. Then my racing heart and mind is calmed and silenced enough to feel the warmth of the sun, the coolness of a breeze, to listen to the sound a lake water lapping the shore, or to hear crickets at summer’s end—“so thin a splinter of singing.” (Carl Sandburg)
Then I exist in “timelessness” -- before I again enter the madly spinning world where, actually, everything IS happening at once!
While we do live in the present, our thoughts are often focused on the past or future. Remaining in the moment is difficult, which becomes obvious when we attempt to meditate or clear our minds of brain chatter. Being in the present seems more possible when we are in love (with a person or a project). Then no one or nothing else exists. Being present also seems more possible when we are with children, who compel us (if we are attentive and follow their lead) to live and love each moment, mostly in play and imagination. To quote another voice: "...the Present is the point at which time touches eternity.” (C. S. Lewis)
I became well aware of the not living in the present when visiting our four-year old grandson, Finn. I told him I would be leaving “tomorrow” and that I would be sad to leave. Without skipping a beat, he said, “It’s not tomorrow now.” The simple truth of his words penetrated my being to realize how I had rather selfishly imposed the future on Finn, when he lives only in the present—the "here and now,” as children do. He challenged me to be truly with him—not to worry about “tomorrow," only the experience the joy of our being together in the here and now.
When my mind is filled with the past and future, or drifts off to realize the absurdity of our existing on a little blue planet spinning madly, orbiting our sun star through dark, cold, infinite space, I have to stop, put up an imaginary "Gone Fishin" sign and sit under a tree, or gaze at the starry sky. Then my racing heart and mind is calmed and silenced enough to feel the warmth of the sun, the coolness of a breeze, to listen to the sound a lake water lapping the shore, or to hear crickets at summer’s end—“so thin a splinter of singing.” (Carl Sandburg)
Then I exist in “timelessness” -- before I again enter the madly spinning world where, actually, everything IS happening at once!
Here and Now
Here
where everything and nothing is real
Now
when there is no truth
and all paths lead
everywhere and nowhere
Refuse to stand at either pole
or be forever lost in between
One thing is clear
YOU are a fixed star
All things exist in relation to you
orbit in your sphere
are held in balance by you—
Here and Now
Sandra Williams
