The Olympics are barely over, and already the vivid events are almost wiped from our minds. Small super-fragments may remain bright for a while longer, but too soon they will fade away to nothing.
Humans pride themselves on their ability to remember, and are often scornful of other species who don’t have that capacity, but the fact is we have little to be proud about.
If we really had large and accurate memories, then it would not be necessary for us to keep the reams of paper, and now digital, data that we do. We would be able to access and trust information, one person or group to another. But it doesn’t seem to work that way; there never has been a direct and trustworthy system, for once the moment of contact passes, everything that happens from then on is third hand at best, a matter of retrieval in one way or another.
Blame Time; it doesn’t stand still, and most unwillingly we have to go along with that fact.
Most of us are happy to let things be that way, sensible of the danger of overloading our brains with everything that ever came to our attention. The day to day brain doesn’t absorb much and doesn’t learn too much either. It was built to experience and react, not to become an enormous information repository.
The experiencing of pain is worth noting, in that once the painful incident has passed, the brain has no record of the particular discomfort. What is good for pain relief, however, is bad for improvements in how humans lead their lives, for it appears that what has been achieved in that area, is not retained either. Not directly, which is the point here; to re-inform ourselves, we have to go to the saved record.
We all know how much pain and anguish memories that have somehow created continuous, almost unbreakable loops can cause us. They are out-of-present-time events, acquired responses to usually traumatic situations, for which there don’t appear to be acceptable reasons or mitigating circumstances, and as they have become deeply imprinted, they are most seriously resistant to removal.
Living in the moment was all life was supposed to be, but that isn’t possible if there are memories. Living without attachment is the highest aim of those on the spiritual path, but the human brain has found a way to double-check even that aspiration. It is not easy, we are told, to prepare to walk the long road to enlightenment.
Clocks mark the seconds and move on, the breath comes in and goes out, every single moment is new and unrepeatable; there should be joy in being so unencumbered.
Happiness is not a memory; it is the reaction to the moment, each moment. Fear is a product of memory, and sadly, returning to a fearing point does not offer information as to how things can be made better.
It seems we must work against memory, not live with it. Non-attachment, so often despised as laziness and/or stupidity, would appear to be what we should attain to.
There is a future in not knowing. Nothing in this world is ours to keep, including the planet.
Time Zero
I haven’t got round to posting my posts in the last few days, events took me for a whirl and I ended up being short-changed in the time department. I mean where did it go? It’s supposed to roll out evenly, but frankly I don’t think that can be true.
We measure time with clocks of all sorts, instruments that know how to keep the beat, but I am far from convinced that counting even ticks is that effective, it simply doesn’t tell the whole story.
I would say that time is perfectly arbitrary, that all we do with clocks is control ourselves. Time is, I believe, quite different for each person and every other sentient thing on this planet, and probably to infinity through the universes.
Time seems mashable, malleable, stretchable, able to be tightly compressed, round, smooth, rough and bumpy, and sometimes inclined to become crystalline, with facets that reflect in many different ways. Time operates on the horizontal, the vertical and round blind corners, while still remaining valid to the person who is experiencing it.
There can only be one moment when time is wholly synchronous, and that is the time of our birth into the Light of Consciousness, the instant we become alive to a new life.
This is Time Zero, the only measurable point that is the same for all of us.
The Journey begins
Greatest Spirit as Keeper of the Light of Consciousness … the words of Rachael’s prayer, said as simply and lovingly as they could be, were carried out into the unknowable tracts of the unending Cosmos on the stream of the Light of Consciousness. The Life Source, defended every moment of the way by the deafening roar of the Truth of Intent, burst forth from Jake’s Cave travelling at incredible speed in every conceivable direction and on every plane of existence, and as the mega sonic boom at the moment of release tailed away to nothingness, the seemingly dead and dark interstices of blue-black space lit up with an indescribable scintillating and sparkling rosy pink glow and things began to happen.
Immobile slivers and shards and roly-poly bits of primordial matter that had unknowingly permeated every aspect and plane of existence suddenly had the thought to shift, discovering in themselves wholly unexpected urges to go somewhere. Vast clouds of that interstellar dust, thousands and thousands of parsecs across and as deep as that again, roiled and swelled to twice their original dimension, while universes of explosive gases sputtered fitfully, then ignited and burned with frissons of uncontrollable excitement that sparked and popped and brightly illuminated the space in which they lay.
The prayer, perfectly aware of its final destination, stubbornly pursued its purpose and raced further out and out from Earth, faster, faster and faster, beyond what was possible, revealing itself for the millionth part of a nanosecond as the soft pale orange of a spring morning on the planet Mars, and at the same time the momentary lingering of a single light photon ray on the perishing cold and perpetually dark side of Mercury.
In the wide, open galactic spaces which made Forever seem small and paltry, the orison rode super-galactic winds with wild whoopee freedom, crashing into and blasting apart seeding beds of violently hot stars; dragging on the straggling tag ends of nameless crowds of molecular clouds, vigorously encouraging enigmatic though grossly fertile nebulae to birth more stars than was strictly necessary.
Round and round the tall, stately Pillars of Creation it spun and gambolled, to spring forward again, picking out in searching clarity meteor-battered planets and moons that even Time had forgotten were there.
Taken from the Prologue of The Blessings of Dis, Book Two of The Gatherers Trilogy.
Does Time Travel?
Is anything actually moving? Do we need to go somewhere to be somewhere?
A little bit of me gets excited with that thought. “You’re on to something,” it says, ‘dig into that, go a little further down the worm-hole.”
Indian yogis move themselves from A to B, often hundreds of miles distant from each other. The British Army in Indian reported on this phenomenon, and were stumped by it. But did one image of the person stay at home while the other, through holographic activity, went roving?
The shaman Rolling Thunder could bring objects to him from distant places, claiming that the process was easier to achieve if he remembered where the original object was located. Was that holographic sleight of hand also?
A friend tells me I slow down time enormously. I see myself as having nice long days. It is very probable, I think, that every living thing experiences time very differently, and that the Earth must also have a similar process to report. We are connected directly to the planet at all times; if Earth changes, do we change too, and never notice it?
Still, if everything is travelling at the same speed in the Universe, does that cancel out Time?
tetralogia 