Summary

The text is a reflective exploration of the concept of time, examining how it is experienced in the present, influenced by the past and future, and its relationship with personal activities and creativity.

Abstract

The article delves into the philosophical question of "What is time?" by discussing the present moment as a dynamic experience where one exists and creates. It contrasts the slow passage of time in childhood with the rapid pace felt by the elderly and ponders the moments when time seems to stand still, particularly when engaged in passionate activities like writing and making love. The author also touches on the struggle to manage time effectively and the unexpected moments when one's internal clock defies routine. The narrative suggests that time is not just a linear progression but a subjective reality that can be shaped by our actions and engagement with life.

Opinions

The author believes that the present is the most tangible aspect of time, where existence and action converge.
There is a perception that time's pace is variable, feeling slower in childhood and faster in old age.
The text suggests that time can be experienced differently depending on one's engagement with their passions or during moments of happiness.
The author implies that time can be wasted or lost, indicating a sense of personal responsibility in how time is utilized.
A sense of wonder is expressed about the nature of time when reflecting on past moments or the identity of individuals in old photographs.
The author emphasizes the importance of seizing time for creative endeavors, viewing it as a period when one is fully alive and in control of their time.
There is a call to action for the reader to engage with the author's content on writing, suggesting that sharing and creating stories is a way to connect and make the most of one's time.

What is time?

The past and the future

The present

The present is where I am just now.

Now that I am sitting here, at the kitchen table, with my lap top, writing.

Now I am inside the time.

I am in existence.

I write.

I exist.

I am in life.

I am inside time. Like when I am deep into it, in the moment of deliverance, the short lap of time, of happiness, when it’s about to come, all what I have been longing for.

I am in time when it comes like a huge wave rolling in from the ocean, or when I calmly wake up on a silent spring morning when the sun is brightly rising from behind the hills.

What is time when I am floating on an invisible bed high above a vague dream landscape? What is time when I am being lifted to the surface by the sounds of the phone on silent mode, a voice in the phone saying “where are you, you’re late, are you coming?”

What is time when I am awakened by a kindly reminder that I am not — at this time — where I am supposed to be?

What is time when I catch eye of an ancient portrait photo of a young man with long hair — who’s that person?