Wednesday, December 15, 2010

It's in the timing

I have a mind to write about time.  Where does each moment go once it's passed?  Only fragments remain in our heads, reachable by those (invisible?) wires attached in our brains to memory or somewhere else perhaps?

My problem at the moment (these moments passing by and passing by on toward wherever they go) is that I have little time to focus on thinking or even researching about time because time is in short supply.  McTaggart's 'The Unreality of Time' becomes 'The Disappearance of Time'.  Impermanence and Unknowing cut through the order of events revealing them as shards that prick us on their journey through our moments.

Meanwhile, I am listening to Leonard Cohen's 'Everybody Knows' followed by 'In my secret life'...

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