On Relativity

[sdi]

A long time ago—one of the first things I ever posted to this blog—I opined how long life was and wondered why people always say otherwise. These days, time seems to crawl at around a third of the speed I remember as "normal"—that is, a day feels like three, a week feels nearly like a month, etc. The topic came up on this month's Open Post over at Ecosophia (prompted by Cointoss #23), where most responses have simply parroted the conventional wisdom which I disagree with. So the nature of time and why it seems so slow to me but not others has been on my mind today, but I couldn't come up with a solid answer.

Now, I read many fairy tales to my daughter, and ones with riddles are her favorites. Tonight, out of nowhere, she felt like quizzing me before we dug into our bedtime story. "What is the fastest thing in the world?"

"Oh, I know! I've heard this one told a few ways. Is it 'thought?' Or perhaps, 'the wind that travels over the steppes?'"

"Wrong! It's 'time,' daddy."

"Are you sure about that? I think time is pretty slow."

"It's fast for me," she said, and in a sing-song voice she added, "time flies when you're having fun." Then, suddenly serious, "Next riddle! What is the slowest thing in the world?"

Now I was curious what she'd say, so rather than answer her, I waited an appropriate interval and said, "I'm stumped. What's the slowest thing in the world?"

"It's 'time' again, but when you're bored."

Now, this struck me as a very astute observation—indeed, an obvious one, but one I'd totally missed. And, of course, my daughter knew nothing about the thoughts that were on my mind. So the synchronicity left me thoughtful. On reflection, I think she's right: human life, and indeed the material world as a whole, is very boring—perhaps this is because I've been at it too long, and perhaps this is why I am so fixedly determined to move beyond it, and why there is little save metaphysics and math that continues to hold much interest for me.

There's a silver lining, though: it seems most people have a very difficult time meditating, like sitting still for a few minutes will kill them or something. I've never had that problem: meditation is no more boring than anything else, and after a few years of practice it gets to be a lot less boring than most other things. Maybe that's another reason I keep at it so.

In any case, it's nice to have a solid answer that "feels right" to a question that's been plaguing me for years.

Comments

[temporaryreality]

I disagree with the fractional-part-of-life theory too. I experience time differently at... different times (!). This week, I'm having quarter-hour-passing in a blink moments. I'm distracted a lot, too, which is a probable cause or correlation. We have a kitten in the house and maybe we're on her time, which is probably one long continuous moment after moment after momentary distraction.

And the days' decreasing length make 24-hour periods feel like they're flying by because so many fewer hours are usable to the degree they were when there was more sunlight. Once we turn lights on, it feels like it ought to be bedtime.

I've also experienced what we laughingly called a time vortex. We had house and car clocks synchronized, would leave the house in plenty of time to get to school, and yet in the 20 feet from front door to car, we'd consistently lose 5 or more minutes. I'd check the clocks - they were fine. We never figured that one out (and it wasn't like I'd look at the clock and then spend 5 minutes looking for my keys - it was out the door and to the car - unless I was simply unconscious of what I was actually doing as I went out the door). It stopped happening when we moved out of that house.

A lot has been said by people smarter than me about flow state and sense of time (due to engagement with the subject at hand). Perhaps you're in a state of existential flow. Or maybe since there's some impatience to "move on" you're "suffering" from the fate of all children who are eager to open Christmas presents: December takes forever.

[temporaryreality]

As for meditation - I don't find it boring; I can sit still for a very long time. Whether or not I can actually focus on a theme is a whole 'nuther matter. I can focus (and get into a flow-state of thought) at other times, but have a great challenge when it's a scheduled meditation with an "assigned" theme - as it is these days since I'm working through JMG's workbook. Ah well, it's supposedly character-building to keep doing so, so I shall.

[sdi]

I disagree with the fractional-part-of-life theory too.

I wonder if the fractional-part-of-life theory applies if one lives their life completely passively: if most of your experiences aren't engaged, then perhaps duration is the only thing that differentiates them? (My grandparents, for example, were adherents of that theory, and as far as I can tell they spent all their time watching Law and Order!)


I've also experienced what we laughingly called a time vortex.

I've experienced that, too! It happened to me a lot when I was a teenager. I'd glance at the clock, immediately forget what it said, internally criticize myself for my lack of attention, and glance back at it, only to have the second glance jog my recollection of the first glance and to realize that the two were 5 or 10 or even 15 minutes apart! I haven't experienced it lately, but then, I don't have many clocks in the house or check the time very regularly any more.


Perhaps you're in a state of existential flow.

You're so sweet :) Here I am, assuming I'm doing something wrong, and you propose that maybe I'm actually doing it right. Well, I guess there's only one way to find out, and that's to keep going!


Whether or not I can actually focus on a theme is a whole 'nuther matter.

It really varies by the day for me, as well. Some days I slip into trance immediately, and other days I can't get there at all even after hours of effort. In many ways it seems to have gotten more difficult over time—since I have so much more practice now, I wonder if astral conditions are degrading faster than I can improve my capabilities.