The Sands of Time

The furnace blasts plasma at young, virile hands. A barrage of charged particles bombard his exposed grips, shovels used to plough and pick fields. Produce is pulled, boxes stacked, and wheelbarrows pushed, the midday sun unrelenting in its fusion blitz. He’s been working since dawn and won’t finish until dusk, each shipment a boon in the family’s fortunes, each cheque a bridge to a brighter future. Little does he know, the toll time will physically extract.

Juxtaposed against his withered and weathered skin, the vibrancy of youth sparkles, collagen resplendent in its elastic glory. His great-granddaughter knows only the glacial, inhibited older man, his observing grandson summons memories of the prime specimen–a man of infinite size, stamina, and strength. The years have betrayed him but her exuberance buoys him, tandem smiles more precious than gold, dual experiences inhabiting inexhaustible delight. Her lifetime ahead, his sojourn behind, the dichotomy of life found in the irony of time.

Diametric in examination, both observations of my grandfather are correct; the colossal man impeded and impaired by time. Once proud and physically imposing, he stood tall, energised by the verity of youth. As is the (apparent) natural order, the years eroded vitality, a recognisable stranger presented in an imposter’s shell. A lifetime of doing now relegated to watching, accumulated knowledge shared through instruction ahead of involvement. This is Sigmund Freud’s “If youth knew; if age could” personified; sprightly inexperience contrast against leisurely wisdom. Whether it’s entropy driving the arrow of time or the shortening of telomeres resulting in senescence, science posits reasons for the ageing process, physical and observable proceedings (supposedly) inherent in nature. Are the scientists correct? That’s a question best left to the learned but as mortals go, all we have is referenced theories and individual observation, both weighted accordingly.

In Dan Simmons’ SciFi epic Hyperion, the vibrant and vivacious Rachel Weintraub contracts Merlin Sickness, an affliction causing her to age backwards. While plausible according to the rules governing Simmons’ fictional universe, objective reality states such a phenomena as highly improbable, if only for one reason: entropy. Despite torrents of literary creativity, natural laws such as those found in thermodynamics govern existence, entropy one such quality tethered to the rulebook. As defined by Merriam-Webster, entropy is “a measure of the unavailable energy in a closed thermodynamic system that is also usually considered to be a measure of the system’s disorder.” For example, a block of ice (ordered) placed on a hotplate will cause the ice to melt (disordered) and the hotplate cool. According to the conservation of energy, it’s considered highly improbable the process will reverse, water reforming into ice on a warming hotplate. What implication does this have for time? Measuring entropy distinguishes the past from the future, a time debt accrued and paid during the forward-moving transition process and thus, its characteristics nestle within the arrow of time. In the human context, it’s unlikely your death precedes your conception; my grandfather born after my niece.

Whether you choose to accept the theorised genetic memory phenomenon, humans are not born polished specimens, instead, a lifetime of knowledge and skill acquisition lay ahead, a process we instinctually recognise as learning. Learning is influenced by a number of factors but to ingrain (or unlearn) an element, a time commitment is required. In The Little Prince, French aviator and laureate Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote, “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” Why do de Saint-Exupéry’s words carry magnitude? It can be inferred both the rose and time are consequential. How so? In a human lifespan, time is finite, making its allocation meaningful. Soil preparation, pH levels, seed selection, planting, watering, exposure to sunlight, fertilisation, pesticides, pruning–all common gardening considerations growers must continuously contemplate when tending to their ornamental plants. Whether trial and error or a strategic approach, to achieve blossom fullness, growers must learn what proportional combinations work best, and while expert direction can expedite the process, personal mastery takes time. Moreover, when one delves deeper into de Saint-Exupéry’s position, it becomes scarily apparent: time is an exhaustible resource readily squandered.

There’s no greater advertisement for the value of time than words shared by children’s reading stalwart, Dr. Seuss: “How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?” The passage of time spontaneously combusts, violently accelerating every living moment, 10-years carried in an instant. Why? Fractions. Each solar circumnavigation bears less fractional weight in that one year for a 5-year-old constitutes twenty percent of their life, where for an 80-year-old, to realise the same fractional proportion, 16 years must pass. Quantifying this difference in our age dependent perception of time can only be understood when experienced, the arrow shooting toward our expiration bullseye instructive. Perhaps this is why those of advanced years feel compelled to impress Keating monologues on the youthful, passionate in their seize the day pleas. Here, we enter the realm of nostalgia and regret, the inexorable celebration of our halcyon days echoed by bitter lamentation over the empty and wasted; the duality of (wo)man.

In The Sea, Irish novelist John Banville wrote, “The past beats inside me like a second heart.” Goose stepping in our relentless march toward tomorrow, perhaps that’s all we’re left with: memories. In this conjured dimension, resplendent in its recall imperfection, and if only for fleeting moments, we re-inhabit the bygone, fond recollections contrast against antagonistic reminders. Of course, cognitive processes defining memory carry significant weight but as it relates to time, reflection is the focal point. Why? Life is a series of ephemeral moments bound together by our unique experience, time the location stamp. 1992 was the year my Olympic assault began, 1998 when it accelerated, and 2008 the year of annihilation; consequential moments encoded in my personal history. They are precisely that because time affords the opportunity to delineate their positions, defining exact locations in my chronology. Anchored in my past, these events act as biographer, and from one moment to the next, simultaneously author and inform my story. Without time, our universe would be static; nothing would happen–nothing. To nihilists, this may seem appealing but to me, good, bad or indifferent, life is inherently meaningful, innocence replaced by experience, time progressing us from the past toward the future, memories the preservative.

Famed Irish playwright, George Bernard Shaw, is supposed to have said, “Youth is the most beautiful thing in this world—and what a pity that it has to be wasted on children!” I vehemently disagree. The beauty of children is their innocence, humanity in its purest form. For lack of a better term, children don’t know better… until they do. Isn’t this the beauty of life? Discovering and learning? Are your formative years not some of the most pivotal in your development, each evolution better informing your understanding of not only yourself, but the world? Is there not meaning and value in such an investment? The repeated failures, tears and tantrums, cuts and bruises, suffered slights, and difficulties encountered imbue meaning in accomplishment and success, the ability to endure, adapt, overcome, and command sweeter for having conquered trials and tribulations. Moreover, do we really want to saddle children with knowledge of adult ills as opposed to letting them gradually experience, learn, and develop at their right pace? There’s currency in developing resilience and in adulthood, the dividend pays handsomely.

In his seminal classic, The Hero With a Thousand Faces, American academic and celebrated author Joseph Campbell, introduces the monomyth, a concept describing the hero’s journey. Through structural comparison, Campbell argues the concept runs through mythology, unmistakably buttressing the archetypal hero’s story. Essentially, it’s a storytelling template, dictating the process of transformation. In classics such as The Odyssey, Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars, we instinctually recognise the protagonist’s struggle to grow and overcome because it mirrors life–our life. While fictional character arcs may be fantastical, are we both not the sum-total of our experiences? Do we not march through life seeking to establish and/or affirm our identity? Do our lives not ask us to acquire the necessary skills, problem-solve, and act decisively to combat difficulties faced? Are we not shaped by encounters with malevolent and benevolent individuals? Are we not beholden to the failure-success paradigm? We connect with characters and stories because in them, we see aspects of ourselves. Odysseus’ love for Penelope, the bonds of friendship forged by the Fellowship, and Luke Skywalker’s battle within, these aren’t magical inventions, they’re innately human, discernible events transcending time and culture. Stories, myths, and legends link us to the past and as Campbell correctly identified, the monomyth structure was, is, and will continue to be widely applied because inside us all, a primal flame burns, love felt the same now as then.

Master of the imaginative and paranoid, Science Fiction stalwart, Philip K. Dick, was lauded for his ability to synthesise the original, not least of which concerns the effect technology and a person’s surroundings has on an individual. Widely considered one of his three best novels, Ubik (1969), amongst other things, deals with the nature of reality, perception, and time, more specifically, time regression. Being interested in these subjects, my curiosity is immediately piqued but as Joe Chip discovers, time travel may not be as profitable as we believe. By today’s standards, consider something relatively simple such as reliving oneself in the bathroom. Flushable valves and toilet paper are 20th Century inventions, features Western civilisation takes for granted. If forced to nominate panic buys during the COVID-19 pandemic, toilet paper would not have registered yet frenzied buying depleted supermarket shelves, creating a nationwide shortage. In Ubik, Dick grapples with time regression and the reality of being placed in an environment with different social, cultural, and political values juxtaposed against the protagonist’s knowledge of the future. Isn’t excitement found in anticipation, possibilities materialising as outcomes? How boring would life be without learning, discovery, inventing, and experiencing the unanticipated/unforeseen? As American novelist Nicholas Sparks wrote, “It’s the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee.” Perhaps I’m in the minority but to an extent, I’d prefer to leave room for surprise, preserving the mystery of life rather than extinguishing it.

Orthodoxy serves an important purpose, seeding the prevailing but in the heterodox, challenges to the mainstream are given license to confront the established, new and interesting theories and ideas proffering alternate explanations. In a radical departure from my argued position, Block Universe Theory is one such concept, introducing the idea time is an illusion (created in our brain) with the past, present, and future occurring simultaneously, now suggested as an arbitrary place in time. Why acknowledge such an idea? Mystics. Whether you choose to believe in divination or not, explaining how the gifted access knowledge of future events is beyond my understanding, modern science’s attempts to discredit rationalise premonition, prophecy, and prognostication unsatisfying. How does one resolve the accuracy of unusual yet specific personal predictions made (that eventuate) for events yet to occur? What realm are these soothsayers accessing? The skeptic in me casts a doubting eye yet repeatedly, both personally and observationally, supernaturally-derived declarations (both good and bad) materialise. Are we living a predetermined or (even) simulated existence, oracles granted special dispensation to divine the preordained? This question exceeds my scientific, philosophical, and theological limits but like everything contentious, the idea should release a heretical cat among the doctrinal pigeons, dogma frequently and forcefully challenged. After all, it’s not like mainstream scientists have set out to prove in our three-dimensional reality, time is a human construct…

Like Alice, we’re well and truly tumbling down the rabbit hole, the perception of time our Wonderland. Inquisitive to a fault, Science Fiction weaves a rich tapestry, spun on looms wefting, warping, and tamping threads of possibility. A playground for the imagination, the genre fascinates, enthralling with its ability to animate the inconceivable. Based on Ted Chang’s short story The Story of Your Life, Denis Villeneuve’s 2016 SciFi adaptation Arrival, among other things, attempts to tackle the perception of time, contrasting our human perspective with that of the Heptapods, a contacting alien species. Drawing heavily from Lagrangian mechanics and citing Fermat’s principle, theoretical ideas gradually become realised, our human protagonist Louise, through her growing understanding of the alien language, glimpses nay experiences the Heptapods’ perception of time, one with no distinction between the past, present, and future. Why the intellectual fervour? Theoretical physicists attempting to unify quantum mechanics and general relativity face the problem of time, reconciling QM’s and GR’s notions of time problematic. This whets one’s highbrow appetite as theoretically, such perception could exist, the alien perspective presenting awfully similar to the aforementioned Block Universe Theory. When striding toward answers, asking interesting questions and positing unconventional ideas energises, Science Fiction exciting toward science fact.

Whether you choose to believe, are a non-believer or remain indifferent, religion is an omnipresent force, its gaze inescapable. Statistics suggest 85 per cent of the global population identifies with a religion making it an egregious oversight to leave religious conceptions of time unacknowledged. Why? For varying reasons, science and theology appear locked in an existential battle to the death, each vying for creation supremacy. Few genesis subjects elicit feelings such as those garnered by the spark of creation, the moment existence came into being. Whether quantum fluctuation or a divine being, opposing explanations are unlikely to satisfy the ardent based on one simple argument: faith. For that reason, religious undertakings merit consideration. In many religions, a supreme creator fashioning existence pervades creation yet explanations for time vary and for good reason. Theistic derivations on the temporal/atemporal nature of God permeate creation myths, establishing if God exists inside or outside time or within something else critical. Why? The implications manifest in attempts to explain the physical nature of reality and deliver teachings concerning beginnings, endings, and/or eternity. Living a pious life in preparation for final judgement, cycling through universal birth, life, and death, and traveling through reincarnation and/or transmigration of the soul offer a smattering of the time-conscious precepts religions build their belief systems on. While not obvious, each religion’s relationship with time commands importance as it results in directives given in how best to live one’s life, prepare for, and transition into whatever next state the religion proffers.

Perhaps it’s the inexorable march toward oblivion, each day a soliloquy to my fading youth but with every passing of the sun, experience gathers, opportunities to inform and grow volunteered. From boy to man, my conception of time has changed. No longer living in the lagging realm of childhood, days accelerate, tomorrow hastened to the dustbin of personal history. Good, bad or indifferent, life progresses, a collection of ephemeral moments evaporating as soon as they materialise. Whether reminiscing, being present or looking to the future, our relationship with time dictates much. Am I mired in the past? Am I present in the now? How do I feel about my prospects moving forward? The responses inform who we are, influencing our current state of mind and in turn, affect our occasion. I have more failures and regrets than I care to remember but life doesn’t offer a mulligan, it dispassionately administers, moving from one moment to the next. Herein lies the value of time: once gone, it can never be recovered. Whether remarkable or seemingly inconsequential, everything matters, for when these punctuating timestamps vaporise, your days have expired. Time: given too much yet given too little.

‘Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.’