Gee ain’t it funny …
… how time slips right on away.
Heard this song on the radio recently, the Dorothy Moore, 1976 version and the thought brought it back today. Funny isn’t it, how the older you get the more time seems to be laughing at you. Until you see it for what it is, that is, then you nail that son of a gun under the spotlight and it scuttles away like a rat at the site of a crazy-mean alley cat.
I remember some things like they were yesterday, one being wishing time would go faster, pass already, and transport me to the car driving, license getting, picking-up-girls for a little vehicular dalliance, age. It took forever.
Also clear are times like standing in front of a mirror, checking myself out in my brand new fancy duds, with sailor like flairs. Yeah baby.
Sneaking friends in the boot (trunk for my American friends) of my souped-up car into the drive-in movies, is another memory that remains as fresh as it were yesterday. It may not have been noble but it was great fun.
The devious nature of time is that it presents as being capable of transporting us, as some kind of magical vehicle, from our beginning to our end. It controls the seasons; it’s time for the hard winter, for heavy rains, for life to sprout, for harvest, and for death. Time. Everything comes with time. Time is the bringer of life and death.
Time presents as being the vehicle to set you in the past, the present and the future. And of course, to end you. When it’s your time, it’s your time, right?
Wow! What a bunch of horse s**t!
If it weren’t so sad and crazy it’d be funny.
Firstly, and most importantly, time doesn’t bring the present, the now. It can’t. The now is Reality. When we are in the now, we are actually living.
Time can present dead things only, like memories. And imagined things, like the future.
Because time isn’t real. How can something unreal, offer gifts of reality? Think about that for a moment. Can a skeleton wearing lipstick be mistaken for a hot chick ready for a date?
So is time a silly concept. YES! It is. It is as ridiculous and as sterile as its parent, the ego.
Anyone fussing and crying and losing sleep over getting old for example, for getting a few wrinkles and hitting a certain age number … stop it! All you’re doing is torturing yourself, and robbing yourself of precious opportunities to enjoy the life and the glory of Reality.
For all of those who worry about time, this is what time means in the end:
Where have you been? Nowhere. What have you done? Nothing.