The ticking clock

We are but earth-bound creatures forever in thrall to time. We feel the rush of passing hours carrying us through life even as it drags us towards an inevitable end. The tide of time at its own pace — sometimes joyous, sometimes distressing, sometimes full of motion, sometimes hanging still — brooks no authority, has no master. Often, it can be a medley of voices mellifluous and raucous, solemn and vivacious with events that appear not in sequence but crowded together in chaotic confusion. We have no control over the ticking hands of time, and we mourn its unwitting loss. We have devised sundials, hourglasses, clocks, and watches to measure time, not stop it or hurry it. It is a way of trying to keep everything from happening at once.

Yet it is through this confusion of myriad experiences we have to pick our path and arrive at our conclusions, to walk forward through the crests and troughs with the faith that the highs and lows will pass. Aristotle regarded time as the measure of change, while Newton conceived of time as an absolute reality existing independently of change. Einstein’s theory of relativity reconciled aspects of both views by showing that time is neither wholly dependent on change nor absolutely independent of it; rather, its measurement depends on the observer’s motion and gravitational environment, making any single absolute definition of time impossible.

We turn to literature and agree with Shakespeare that the “inaudible and noiseless foot of time” creeps in on us and overtakes us in ways unknown. Dreams can crash, illusions may melt, disappointments can disappear, hopes can take shape. We are only processes, limited, finite in the infinite possibilities of life. Therefore, it is imperative we realise its value and the fact that the present is the only time any duty can be done or grace received, not to be squandered. Time is ephemeral, invisible, each moment passing into another, the events of the world like the wildfires of California, the pandemic that overran the world, the raging wars in neighbouring countries, the volatile situations that overtake quiet neighbourhoods. These are not black swan events but likely to recur, proving the fragility of all permanence. The anonymous Anglo Saxon poet talking about the abandoned city of Bath says, “Wondrous is the wall stone; broken by fate, the castles have decayed; the work of giants is crumbling.”

Time is seen in its several avatars — the destroyer consuming beauty and life. Robert Oppenheimer, while testing the atom bomb, was reminded of the dark message of Sri Krishna in the Gita: “I am the mighty Time, the source of destruction that comes forth to annihilate the worlds. Even without your participation, the warriors arrayed in the opposing army shall be destroyed.” Paradoxically time too is a healer, a force that brings truth and resilience, reconciliation and acceptance, allows wounds to heal and makes grief an awakening. To come back to the Bard, “How poor are they that have no patience, what wound did ever heal but by degrees?” The most tragic factor of time is its irreversibility, its refusal to roll back its trajectory in spite of entreaties. Time once lost cannot be retrieved leading to remorse.

Time is a universal resource we all have access to but there are times we are time-starved as priorities slip in the middle of competing demands. The manner in which we use our time determines our legacy, whether we lead a life by design or default.

Ecclesiastes 12:6-7 says, “The silver thread is broken, the gold lantern is shattered, the amphora at the fountain breaks, the bucket falls into the well, the earth returns to dust.” This talks of the fragility of last moments, urging us to remember the Creator before life ends, emphasising the need for spiritual awareness before the body gives up. Such then is the power of time. It is timeless.

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