Sometimes this feels like work (but mostly I forget what time it is)
On the fluid nature of time
Swag Photography (edited), Upsplash
Approx. 600 words; three minutes read time
The limits of my small workshop are an ever-present obstacle in my life. And my old work commute always felt exactly like ten miles - because it was. Space is static in our day-to-day lives. But not so with time.
We've all been there. Working away at something we love and poof - the day is gone. "Where did the time go?" It's as if the space-time continuum has somehow distorted. Befuddled by the lost hours, we throw in the towel, eager to start again tomorrow.
We all learned in school that time is the "fourth dimension." Space, having length, width, and height, covers the first three. But physicists studying space-time have known for ages that this model is too simplistic. Time does not neatly relate to space in the same way the three spacial dimensions relate to one another. Whatever time is, it is a lot more fluid than anything else we experience.
Do we lose time because it is fundamentally different?
Sometimes it seems like we lose space. For instance, we can become hypnotized on a long drive, not aware of the miles traveled. But what we actually lose track of is time, not the distance. It's our perception of everything around us, not the space we inhabit, that changes.
But losing time for one person doesn't affect another's perception of it.
If I am lost in my work, my son can still be counting the minutes before I play with him again. For me, time is flying by. For him, it's creeping to a standstill.
Our individual experience with time can be different at the same...er..um...time.
But losing track of the minutes is not only in our heads; it can affect our physical reality.
Just yesterday, I started before daybreak in my shop, engrossed in an exciting project. I had skipped breakfast, consumed by the work ahead. Hours went by, and before I knew it, I had skipped lunch as well; I ended up not eating until after seven that evening. As I lost time, I also lost my drive to eat.
Hunger exists in our minds too, so this is not solely a physical manifestation of warped time. But it illustrates how our perception of time can affect physical needs and actions.
Another odd fact about time (for me anyway) - it is the only precious thing I want to lose. When my life is on track, paradoxically, I lose track of time. It's how I know I am doing what I should be doing.
I can tell my writing and making are going well when the hours disappear. The only thing that eats up a day that well is time with my son. And even my preferred exercise - mountain biking - doesn't feel like a "have to" when I am into it.
These endeavors - work, family, and play - I measure by the time lost, not by the time spent.
While writing this story, I picked up my full mug of coffee and took a sip. I expected that familiar, hot-delicious java I crave. But it had gone cold before I began drinking it.
I was so into the story that I forgot about the cup sitting there.
If I ever doubt the fluid nature of time, I can think of this moment. Even my favorite vice - caffeine - wasn't strong enough to overcome the timewarp.
Until next time. Science. Fiction. Create.
JRC
Measuring joy by time lost. I love it 😊