So, another week gone by. Time marked off in little chunks as if it was all the same, each chunk of an hour the same length as the next hour. How weird we are to think that when we all experience things so differently.
The last hour of work on a Friday afternoon is definitely longer than the first hour on a Monday morning. I woudl say it is at least twice as long, but then again there is really no spatial comparison that is valid here, and that’s the whole point.
Manipulating time. If we stop thinking it is some kind of relentlessly solid measurable thing maybe we will figure out ways to stretch or shink time.
We are so very limited by our paradigms. They haunt us, whipping us along the same old pathways and we havebecome so accustomed to the whip that we don’t even notice it anymore.
Where else could we find freedom as well as with time? There is bound to be many other ways in which we can’t see past the paradigms, but how do we go past them if we can’t see them?
Perhaps it is as easy as allowing a little randomness, a little unexpectedness, a little wonder into our lives, instead of so much sureness.
Just a little magic, in it’s place so that we don’t rush headlong into Chicken Little the sky is falling fears.
Perhaps it is an openness to the vast mystery that is life on earth.
We are creatures of habit – our perceptions well conditioned to make this place seem familiar and homely and safe. Would it be too scary if we really saw the scope of the mystery that we live?
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