On Time

"How do you expect to come loose in time when you pay so much attention to the clock," I've been known to say. Usually, I say this jokingly to my husband when he grumbles about coming in a minute or two off his estimate on some matter of timing. He's got a very good sense of it, and misjudgments of time don't happen too often.

The inferences in my comment are three:

A. Coming unglued and sliding around randomly in time as we know it would be desirable.

B. The things we use to gauge time, the clocks and watches and calendars, have power over time itself.

C. I am somehow less encumbered by the concept than most, and I am in a position to offer advice on it.

These are only partly true.

While coming loose in time might seem like a scary proposition to most, you would have to admit it probably wouldn't be boring. Imagine visiting any point in your life or in time as a whole, times from your past or future, other eras in history. You could revisit grand events or sample the small moments that make you who you are. Of course, there's no guarantee you'd end up liking the when you stumbled into. So, I suppose that wish for coming loose in time comes with the stipulation that you would have some sort of control over it. In reality, the concept I'm trying to express is more a freedom from time's restrictions - not so much bouncing around in time (even self-directed bouncing) as stepping outside it. From the outside, we could know the whole scope of it and dip our toes in as we will. Then, I think maybe we see time as we do because we've chosen it. More surprises that way. And who doesn't like surprises?

Of course, the statement also hinges on the idea that the devices we've crafted to measure our time actually control it. We've built our clocks and calendars, named our days, seconds and centuries all in the illusion that we can build a box around a force of nature. Someone somewhere outside time is watching us and laughing. We name things and measure things in order to understand what we can of them. Our devices are only tools to give us some rough idea of the shape of it and to give us some comfort and courage as we tumble through it. In that respect, I suppose there is a glimmer of truth in the idea. If we really want to free ourselves, we would have to set aside our attachment to the comfort of clocks. But ignoring our artificial perception of objective time, turning our backs on the clock, does no more to control it than slavishly focusing on the measurement. Time is. We're just along for the ride.

Does time weigh less in my world because I reach for a different perspective of it? No. Time is real, and I live in a world where I'm expected to pay attention to it. I can forget my age for a while, but eventually someone's going to need it on a form, and I'll have to do the calculation. I can lose myself in a moment forever, but there are infinite moments out there, and eventually I'll be expected to make an appearance in another one. As much as we might want to escape now and then (pun intended), we can't just shut our eyes and pretend it doesn't exist. Time, timing and rhythm are what keep us in the world. Ask anyone whose heart's gone haywire.

An anchor? Maybe, but it also sounds a lot like music.

So the message is, don't fret. Time will take care of itself. Enjoy the many perspectives. Enjoy the surprises. Peek at the clock only enough to keep yourself on time when you need to.

How do you expect to come loose in time when you pay so much attention to the clock?