Yesterday I returned to my high school gymnasium for the first time since I left it after my graduation 9 years ago. It was bizarre how recent the memories seemed. It was staggering to think that it has really been 9 years. At the same time it is crazy to think how far removed I am from that time. Standing there in my cap and gown I had no clue what I was going to do. Now looking back it is difficult to imagine things going any other way. I have lived one third of my life post high school graduation. It seems like a blink.
The passage of time is such an enigma; impossible to grasp or understand. Yet, it is also so very basic. It is constant. Each second that goes by is the exact same length as the one before it. However, even the concept of "a second" is something man-made and arbitrary. We have tried to apply something concrete and measurable to something that defies understanding. Time is the one thing we can't have enough of, yet we struggle to know what to do with what we do have.
A writer once discouraged others from using the phrase "fast approaching" or "quickly approaching" in reference to time. His argument was that time always passes at the same rate. Any one moment can not approach you any faster than any other moment. Time always moves at the same rate. However, time is an undefined medium. Only our perception of it really matters. Depending on our state of mind, time can pass at very different rates. I don't think anybody would argue with that. We have surely all felt an hour slip by as if it were no more than a minute. Likewise, we have all endured the 30 minutes that feel like an eternity. A writer can use words to convey a specific idea about the varying speeds in which time can pass. In our minds not all moments in life approach at the same rate.
As a child the school year seemed to last an eternity. The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas felt like months rather than weeks. There were defined segments of the year, and they each had their own lazy way of walking up to meet us. In elementary school and even junior high the summers had a certain deliberate way about them. I would spend time raking hay in the fields as I listened to music through my earphones. I would read a book as I waited for the cows' water tank to fill up. On hot summer days this could take 2 hours if they were up there waiting for a cold drink. As soon as the hose managed to get a couple inches of water standing in the 100 gallon tank a new group would come in and slurp it dry again. At these time I always wished that I was doing something else. I was stuck at my task, and time seemed to pass so slowly.
When we are kids it is almost like time is constantly playing a trick on us. When we are waiting in anticipation of a fun activity, time will slow to a crawl. When we finally get to the engage in said activity, time will race by. This perception makes it seem like we are always waiting. As children life seems to be an endless succession of waiting rooms, where we are constantly told to have patience. When we become adults, time cuts the brake lines and stomps the pedal to the floor. As our working lives begin, we get so wrapped up in everything that it is almost impossible to stop and smell the roses. This has happened to me and I didn't even realize it. Things probably won't slow down again until I retire, which seems like a lifetime away.
