"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once."
Albert Einstein
2014 is about to end.
At least that’s what our calendars say. Our clocks have almost ticked away the 31,556,926 seconds it takes for
our planet to travel around the sun. This planet-star dance is meaningful to us
as humans. We celebrate its end with drink, food and music. In America, 83% of
us will spend over $200 each to eat dinner on New Year’s Eve at a fancy
restaurant. 1% will spend over $1000.
At this time of the year, we
often review the past and set goals to accomplish in the next 31,556,926 seconds our
Earth will take to travel her solar journey once more. We make promises, like to
write sequels, or screenplays (oh wait, those are my resolutions) and loose
some weight (that’s not my resolution, I gave up that battle long ago.)
Since the beginning of time,
we’ve honored and celebrated the annual cycle of life. We watch the seasons
come and go and we know that as the winter comes and all of nature dies, we
too are slowly dying. Thus we make plans that give our lives meaning and make
the most of our time on Earth.
Yet lately time has become
more irrelevant to me. Yes, I am getting older. I see it in the wrinkles around
my eyes and in the fact that I’m the shortest person in the house now that my
sons have entered their teens. My eldest just started driving. Sometimes, when
I look at him I’m surprised at what I see. Where’s that adorable two-year-old boy
who sat on my lap for hours while I read him “The Little Prince” or “The
Chronicles of Narnia?” Honestly, it seems like yesterday, and I’m not just
saying that. But according to time, it’s been 410,240,038 seconds since those days.
Where
does that time go? I see its passing in the changes outside
of me, but within all these moments are one. They mush together into one big
mess and I understand Dr. Who when he defines it as a, “...big ball of wibbly,
wobbly, time-y wimey stuff.”
And
it’s not just the past that’s all one for me--at times I sense the future as
well. I feel the sequel to my novel is already published, even though we
haven’t even begun editing. I think I’m an 80 woman doing the tango on “So You
Think You Can Dance” and amazing everyone with my grace at such an old age.
Yes, even the future, which only lives in my mind, also feels like it’s
happened.
Perhaps
this is because I’ve spent the last three years immersed in an immortal world
where time exists, but has a much different meaning. If we lived forever, would
a simple trek around the sun be worth celebrating? Would we mark off our ages
in years, or in events, or at all?
Maybe
I’ve been reading too much about quantum physics. I admit it, I’m addicted.
What if there are multiple universes? If so, what am I celebrating in those
other places? Do we mark our years in the Earth’s solar dance, or in some other way?
How can I be me in any other space and time than here? Am I not my experiences?
Yet if I’m energy that’s slowed into this form, then where exactly do I
actually end?
I
don’t have any answers. To satisfy my endless curiosity, I write stories about
the things I see in my dreams and in my mind. One thing I do know is that the
way time marches forward in the material world is not the same as the way time
runs around in my head, or my heart. They are very different things.
So
I’ll be celebrating the New Year with my friends and I hope you too are doing
the same. At midnight we’ll pause and toast the New Year. I’ll probably ask
myself why that moment in time is relevant and if indeed a new year has begun.
My dear friend will tell me to stop being so "trippy." And I’ll give thanks once more for all the blessings in my life.
I also give thanks to anyone who’s reading this. I’m grateful for your time and your
support, in whatever universe it might exist. May your 2015 be the stuff of
dreams for each and every one of you.
