For years I have been fascinated with the concept of time. The sheer malleability of the subject allowed me to toss, prod and refine it constantly. My fascination was born from The Time Machine written by H.G. Wells. Especially poignant was the chapter in which the main character travelled into the future only to realise that humans have regressed into primordial stages. The suggested circularity of time and life was reassuring – as if all can be returned to good. In the middle of this year, I tried my hand at writing a short story on the theme of time. It very quickly unravelled into something bigger – encompassing characters – Time, Death and Life – and I had to develop my understanding before continuation.
Time, is the silent regulator of nature. All living things are governed by time frames, unique to their lives and purposes. None can escape the time for maturity and reproduction, as none can escape the end of cyclical life. What makes our situation unique is our concept of time. We understand time in mathematical units of years, months, weeks…right down to the seconds. We organise our lives according to meticulous use of time, and hence develop an anxiety over time. Intelligent animals like dogs do not suffer from the pressing clock as they do not develop a concept about time. Time regulates their lives naturally and simply, from birth to death. Hence, our self-imposed time frames should be questioned for their usefulness in our lives. Ironically, our obssessive organisation of time does not guarantee time in itself. We could very well be dead in the next minute and fail to carry out all future plans. Our steady faith of living to the next day, week, year, decade differentiates us from other animals which live more in the present than in plan for future. If we see that time could cease anytime, we can possibly be more present, as propounded in zen buddhism.
(More shall be discussed in a later post.)