Time, change

Last night was the blue moon. And we set back our clocks.

Today, morning feels electric. It’s 32 degrees—inside and outside my camper van—and the sun is on the rise. In a mere three hours, the temperature will change 30 degrees.

Time—like temperature, or space, or stimulation—is relative.

Three hours spent in a 132-cubic-foot uninsulated cabin with a snoring dog and no human company, might be excruciating for you. But I’m right where I want to be.

Time passes at different rates, for different people.

The past eight months have gone excruciatingly slowly for people who have lost a job, or a loved one, or the roof over their head.

For parents of school-age children, time has maybe stood still.

For me, the time between hugs or kisses has been interminable.

And yet, as we age, doesn’t time seem to go faster? Some scientists say that’s based on the physics of neural signal processing.

The young brain works like a slow-motion camera, capturing thousands of images-per-second. It takes time to process all that color and texture and shape. So, time seems to pass more slowly.

As we age, we receive fewer frames-per-second. Our neural system is more complex, and there’s also been more damage. More actual time passes between the perception of each new mental image.

Hence, time flies.

This morning, I’m using my extra hour to write this blog. But I’m ready for time to fly and for the world to change.

The 2020 election is just two sleeps away.  

Change can’t come quickly enough.