Time flies an arrow, and fruit flies like banana!
Time warps strangely,
like distorted reflections
in a hall of mirrors.
A month slips by in a blink,
gone before it’s lived.
Yet years in the past
feel as though,
between then and now,
I have lived an eternity,
wandering through
folds of time.
There is indeed something distorted about the percepts of time.
With much fanfare, we celebrated the start of a new year and in a blink, it is already the month of February. If I were to say that the month of January just flew by, it would not be an overstatement.
The pace of moments depends on their proximity from the present. Moments that are close to now seem to pass quickly. On the other hand, years in the past (that are distant from now) seem to move at a much slower pace. It is similar to sitting on a train, where the electric poles adjacent to the track rapidly pass by, whereas the trees in the distance near the horizon move at a leisurely pace.
There is also a perception that those past years occurred in a distant time. It feels as though centuries have passed between then and now, even though that is obviously not the case.
Reflecting on my high school years in 1972, approximately fifty years ago, I find it challenging to ascertain the significance of the notion of ’fifty years ago’. The passage of five decades does not evoke specific emotions or sentiments regarding its importance, or perhaps, its triviality.
Is ‘fifty years ago’ any different from ‘fifty-one years ago’? Or for that matter, is it any different than twenty or ten years ago? Is one weightier than the other? If they can have olfactory influence, will one smell different than the other?
What was I doing in the 365 days that were in the year that was ‘fifty years ago’?
I am uncertain about which adjective best describes the span of fifty years between then and now — whether it feels distant, recent, like it happened yesterday, or as though it occurred ages ago.
As time progresses, it seems that the life markers begin to merge into a single continuum. While individual days in the past week are still distinct and identifiable, those from two weeks ago require more effort to distinguish. Beyond two months, the concept of individual days essentially loses its meaning.
Individual months from the previous year may still retain their distinct identity, but even they tend to lose this distinction if they are part of a year that is more than a couple of years ago. Further back in time, even the specific years within a decade begin to blur together.
The phenomenon is like driving along a straight highway and observing milestones in a mirror. The ones recently passed remain distinguishable individually, whereas those located further down the road tend to merge into an indistinct blur.
Perhaps there are some markers for specific events that among the receding years stand taller — the birth of our child, passing away of parents, the visit to Grand Cayman — and can be discerned, but the distance for now still manages to erase details. For some of them, the exact year they occurred escapes.
It may be that my life is too monotonous, or perhaps the perceptions of time I have are not what others see. Alternatively, it could be that events, and their memories, are still there but do not stand out at a quick glance. Only through mindful reflection do the memories of individual events begin to emerge.
Percepts of time are indeed like being in a hall of mirrors.
Ciao, and thanks for reading.
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