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March 3, 2017


Time is unrelenting.

It is the essence of measurable: its 60sec/60min/24hr/7day/52wk/12mon/365.25days-yr are the single universal system of definition in our wee world. No meters vs feet. No liters vs gallons. No American vs Canadian. No dollars vs yen. Or is it yuan?

Time is the universal constant. Like our heartbeat.

But it changes, continuously. Like the time of sunrise and sunset.

I know that for 90 minutes I will be at Level 23 today. I know I have meetings at 9, 1, 2:30 and 6. I will extend or compress activities to hit those measures of time.

But this AM, between bouts of REM/night terrors, I went, like a certain President, deep into Twitter. For what seemed 4 or 5 minutes I scrolled, “engaged”, “liked” (really, a whole ‘heart’ for mere liking?), retweeted on on and on until I noticed there was no time signature anywhere on my phone. The tweets are just minutes or hours or days old.

You are nowhere in time when you are on Twitter – or, I think, anywhere in “Social” Media (has there EVER been a better oxymoron?).

I realized that real time showed 40 minutes to my perception’s 5 or 6. Why? I am guessing that Twitter is only metered by the flow of its product: typed words.

When there is an open, unending timeframe, time seems to fly by. I am guessing that is why people binge watch. Time is dead, the story is the meter.

But then the opposite is true. Like sound, where there less noise the more you hear, when there is less time we experience more of it, it slows down. When the minutes and hours are seen has having a stop time, time is not impressionistic, the time that is left draws us into stark recognition.

The birthing of babies, the death of the beloved, the break of a heart, the joy of union: these things all have hard, fast, known endpoints – so they seem to expand their moments into extremely defined experiences. Time swells to absorb their deep meaning.

Like the last 2 minutes of an NBA game, each act counts more when there is less time to act.

The buzzer goes off on this exercise in 37 days, but before that is the next 55 minutes on this bike, but first the next few sentences, then what word to end, and then…

Well, After enough of these moments our buzzer goes off. It’s the rules of this game. There is no Overtime. I try to stretch time in Lent – to what end?

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