WHAT IS TIME?

 

Ten days ago I had cataract surgery on my bad eye; the fifth surgery on  my eyes in the last eleven months and, hopefully, the last.  My opthalmologist tells me my retinas will need monitoring but, for now, everything is good.  With my bionic eye, I can see right through womens’ clothes, which isn’t always a good thing, by the way!  I've observed that people my age look way better with their clothes on.

Five short months from tomorrow, I’ll be flying to Toronto after my last official day of work to cycle in a Gran Fondo with my good buddies, the Over the Hill Gang.  It’s hard to believe.  It got me thinking about the subject of time and what it means to us at various stages in our lives. 

 

The drawing below illustrates what physicists call the ‘arrow of time’.  I don’t pretend to understand it, but it’s a nice picture!

 

 

Wikipedia defines ‘time’ as a dimension in which events can be ordered from the past through the present and into the future.  Time is also the measure of durations of events and the intervals between them. 

 

A physicist by the name of Sean Carroll explains the relationship between the passage of time and something called entropy.  ‘Entropy’ is defined as a measure of the degradation of an object or system, sort of a gradual decline into disorder. 

 

Here are two other definitions of time: “Time is what clocks measure”, and “Time is what keeps everything from happening at once.”  But, I don’t think anyone knows what time really is; just what effect it has.

We know that time has passed when a clean house gradually gets dirty.  We know that time is irreversible; like not being able to turn an omelet back into an egg once it’s become an omelet.  Time is a measure of the way we humans age.  At this stage in my own life, I call it ‘furniture disease’; that’s when your chest falls into your drawers!

In my case, time has meant different things at different times in my life.  When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to grow up: to get real skates instead of bob-skates; to move from la petite école to la grande école; to graduate from high school.  As a young adult, I couldn’t wait to land my first real job, to have children, and to see them grow up. 

But then things happened that reminded me time can go by too fast: my Mom left us too suddenly; my children grew up too fast; I didn’t get to spend enough quality time with my best friend, the mother of my children; the interesting jobs ended too soon and forced me to move on to something else.

I’m surrounded by people my age who can’t wait to retire; they’re counting the days.  I ask them: “Do you realize that you’re wishing your life away?”  I work with colleagues who are in poor health and can’t seem to get their heads around the idea that quality time spent doing something you like is worth far more than the money you make doing something you don’t.  I tell them that’s why I’m pulling the plug in five months’ time.  They look at me strangely.

As I prepare to enter the third phase of my life, le troisième âge, I do so with a great deal of enthusiasm and anticipation.  Despite a bunch of eye surgeries and two carpal tunnel releases in the last eleven months, my old carcass is holding up quite well.  I like to think of myself as a well-maintained old car; the body’s got a few dents and scratches, but the motor’s good!

Within my extended circle of friends are a couple who are battling very serious illnesses.  I wonder how they define time, or if they even think about it.  Maybe they don’t want to...

I’m at that stage in life when I’d like time to slow down, so that I can savour every moment.  I’m well over my materialistic phase and into the experiential.  I can’t wait to see the world and to knock a few more items off my bucket list.  I figure I’ve got at least fifteen good years left and I can’t wait to get started.  Ah shit!  There I go again!