Inside and Outside Time

For a read-aloud of this post, check out https://anchor.fm/ann-frailey/episodes/Inside-and-Outside-Time-e1a7kcd

“Time is not absolute, and time has no direction.” I get this discombobulating bit of news from the New Scientist, who base their conclusions on no less than Einstein’s general theory of relativity. In another step forward—or backward—scientists from Australia suggest that they have proven, at least theoretically, that time travel is possible. Okay, so here we go!

A time traveler from 2714 posted in August warning that aliens were due to arrive “tomorrow.” His timing was off apparently as none of his predictions panned out. So far. Another time traveler from 3036 (Live Your Lie—spelled creatively) warns that we’re going to have a power outage lasting five years on account of “terrors” and pretty much nothing on earth will be the same. Well, without washing machines, I’d expect so. And a time traveler from 2582 suggests that humanity will experience three days of darkness at some point in our future.  

So where does all this leave me, someone who has trouble managing a one-hour switcheroo involving Daylight Savings Time?

I know for certain that when I am tired and I have a bunch of stuff to do, time drags unmercifully, but when I’ve settled down with a good book in a comfortable chair, hours zip by faster than the speed of light. So, my internal measurement of time is certainly unreliable and perhaps was never meant to be trusted as an absolute value.

I’m just pondering here—but might it be that our human experience of time is not so important in the measurement of a determined number of hours, days, and years, but rather the experience that occurs within that loosy-goosy framework?

My father passed away recently at the age of 92 on November 5th, 2021. My brother passed away at the age of 58 on January 15th, 2021. And my husband passed away at the age of 53 on December 15th, 2013. My husband was the father of eight kids, the youngest barely five years old when he died. My brother was a much-loved pastor of a large parish when he passed away. And my dad had lost the grandeur of his academic abilities long before he passed. All lived for a time, experienced a great deal, and died without anyone clicking a stopwatch to say, “time’s up.” Their “Earthly timeout” appeared random and untimely.

We humans like to control things. Our lives especially. Makes a great deal of sense to me. Out-of-control lives conjure images of chaos and the inherited hell of undisciplined excess—the lie that we can manage ourselves no matter what. But time itself has never really been within our grasp. Only, as Tolkien says through the character of Gandalf, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

In my book My Road Goes Ever On, A Timeless Journey, I reflect on my life in the context of “my personal time”—minutes, hours, days, years given to me to use as I decide. When waiting in a traffic snarl or dealing with a long-talker, I may complain that my time has been “stolen,” but really, I own my time as I do my life.

Over the years, I have become ever more impressed by the boundlessness of time. My ancestors undoubtedly fretted over much the same stuff that keeps me awake at night, though they may have used different terminology to color their meaning.

Why am I here?

Do I matter?

How long will I have here?

Questions are a form of caring. And my careful or careless life and the use of my time say everything about who I am and what my life on Earth means—yesterday, today, and into tomorrow’s forever.

I believe in eternity—an outside-of-time reality. I don’t understand it nor can I encompass it here on our spinning Earth. But it makes a great deal of sense if Einstein and our modern-day scientists are right. Time is all around us—yet beyond us. We exist within its confines but are not confined by it.

Will aliens arrive tomorrow? Will darkness surround us for three days? Will technology cease to light our homes for five years? God knows. Which is to say, I don’t know. In much the same way that God is within, and yet, beyond me, so I accept my limitations in a boundless existence.

Time will tell…

A. K. Frailey is the author of 15 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of 8.

Make the most of life’s journey. 

For books by A. K. Frailey check out her Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/A.-K.-Frailey/e/B006WQTQCE  

Photo https://pixabay.com/illustrations/clock-time-management-time-3222267/

https://www.newscientist.com/article/2166665-why-now-doesnt-exist-and-other-strange-facts-about-time/ .

general theory of relativity 

https://www.ladbible.com/news/technology-scientists-claim-theyve-proven-time-travel-is-mathematically-possible-20200930

https://www.ladbible.com/news/news-aliens-to-arrive-on-earth-tomorrow-to-start-war-says-time-traveller-20210810

https://www.ladbible.com/news/viral-time-traveller-from-3036-makes-chilling-warning-about-future-20210628

https://www.ladbible.com/news/weird-time-traveler-claims-world-is-about-to-enter-three-days-of-darkness-20210502

Hope for the Human Race

Herman perched his glasses on his nose, stared at the bottle of bathroom cleaner with the foamy suds on the label, and swerved his gaze to his beloved dog—the one giving him the mopey What-did-I-Do-To-Deserve-This? look—and realized his mistake.

It wasn’t the first time.

The week before, he had brushed his teeth with Icy-Hot, and the week before that he had poured half a bottle of liquid detergent down the drain thinking he was unclogging the sink. The fact that the dishes had smelled “springtime fresh” hadn’t helped in the least. The sink remained clogged until the plumber sent his snake coil five miles through underground terrain.

Each morning, when the news informed him that a new plague or disasters unlimited loomed, he figured that this was as good a time as any to make out a will. Dying was all too easy. It was living that made each day a challenge.

And so, when he met Chuck, he tried not to act surprised. Chuck looked perfect. He acted perfect. Up until the moment he froze in place. That wasn’t so perfect. Not the way he did it. Stock still. His hand caught in mid-air, holding the test tube just so. His eyes staring, blank, but as wide and as blue as ever.

After the last major world alteration—pandemic, economic crisis, collective emotional meltdown—whatever you want to call it, The University had decided that “State of the Art Androids” would assist human teachers in their laboratory work. No matter if the world was going to hell-in-a-hand-basket, students still needed the opportunity to practice medical procedures, carry out chemical experiments, and do a thousand things that simply could not be managed from home.

Reasonable? Of course.

Considering his record of late, Herman wasn’t surprised when his Department Head informed him that a new assistant, Chuck, would aide him as he maneuvered the entire scientific student body through the semester. To stiffen his spine, Herman reminded himself that his dog had recovered nicely and water ran through his sink lickity-split these days, with a refreshing scent to boot.

He spent the entire weekend before Chuck’s arrival assuring himself that an assistant meant more free time to do his own research. A positive step in the right direction. An honor! And NO risk.

When autumn rolled around and the school doors finally creaked open, Chuck calculated formulas, measured chemicals, laid out lab materials, and never broke anything. Never got mixed up. Never forgot which student he was dealing with or which experiment they were doing. Though his pronunciation did need a little work. Good thing scientists rarely giggle.

But last Wednesday, Chuck had a few internal issues, not gastric of course, just something a little off. He bumped Herman twice as they crossed paths in the lab, and he actually scowled at Lacy, the brightest student in the whole school, who had the unfortunate luck to break her arm. Chuck didn’t slow down for bumbling humans and didn’t smile at imperfections.

Lacy’s attempt at humor as she held up her sling-shod arm collided with Chuck’s long cold stare.

Herman glanced at Lacy; tears filled her eyes.

He had suspected for months that her heart had been beating a little faster whenever Chuck was in the room…but this kind of workplace awkwardness he had never imagined. Made soaping the dog with the wrong kind of suds seem almost funny.

What to do? It wasn’t like he could call Herman out for his icy demeanor, his lack of empathy, his calculated perfection.

But on Friday, Chuck stalled. Positively and undeniably froze in place.

Herman called the proper authorities. Nodded sympathetically when the Head of the Department broke down sobbing. Chuck had been a prototype. “A first, damn it! But not the last!” The Head Man had lifted his chin and thrown a determined glare directly at Lacy. As if her human indelicacy had pushed Chuck’s tightly wound synaptic system over the proverbial bridge.

After two men with a squeaky dolly wheeled Chuck away, Herman shrugged and considered the lab. Test tubes, beakers, Bunsen burners, metal trays, and laptops—various tools of the trade—and one lonely shrub decorated the sterile white room.

A crash and Herman knew in his heart-of-hearts that there was one less test tube.

He blinked at Lacy. A tear slid down her face.

He padded softly to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

She leaned in and sighed. “I can’t help it. I make mistakes.”

For the first time in months, Herman felt hope for the human race.

~~~

A. K. Frailey is the author of 15 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of 8.

Make the most of life’s journey. 

For books by A. K. Frailey check out her Amazon Author Page

https://www.amazon.com/author/akfrailey

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https://amzn.to/2XXdDDz

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https://amzn.to/2YFtQ5r

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