Three separate events last week caused me to think differently about time. The first was in my Bento Group — me and eight people from around the world who meet every Wednesday. Lately a member has come in each week with a word or theme that the group discusses. This has proven to be an amazing process. When you get nine people from different backgrounds talking together about one idea, you get to see things from many perspectives.
Some wonderful thoughts here. Collectively they invite us to hold an expansive view of what ‘now’ contains. It’s not only the present, but ‘now’ also includes a future component.
This isn’t really surprising if we consider how we look at the world around us.
We look out the window and note the weather which will tell us what’s possible today: the sun is out, so I could go for a lovely stroll in the woods. It’s icy, so I can’t take the mountain pass. We look at our full cup of coffee: we predict enjoyment of coffee for the next five or so minutes. We see objects around us not only as static, stationary things, but also things that hold potential. And if we ask ourselves, when we look at what’s around us, what’s of more interest? Their simple aesthetic or what potential they hold? Both are important and no doubt what we see changes all the time. The pot of coriander growing on my kitchen windowsill adds some welcome greenery to the room, but I think also of is its the potential for flavouring my lunch or tomorrow’s supper. Both components - the static form and the potential - make complete the ‘now’.
To test whether this is so, consider ‘now’ without the future component. All objects become inert clumps of still material. Without possibility, these objects are stripped of their purpose. A fork resting on the table ceases to be a functional fork. It’s just a piece of metal fashioned into a shape resembling something we call a fork. It becomes a fake fork.
So, who are we stripped of future possibility? What would a life look like without that future component? Dynamism and movement, gone. And without seeing and feeling potential, are we too stripped of purpose?
Some wonderful thoughts here. Collectively they invite us to hold an expansive view of what ‘now’ contains. It’s not only the present, but ‘now’ also includes a future component.
This isn’t really surprising if we consider how we look at the world around us.
We look out the window and note the weather which will tell us what’s possible today: the sun is out, so I could go for a lovely stroll in the woods. It’s icy, so I can’t take the mountain pass. We look at our full cup of coffee: we predict enjoyment of coffee for the next five or so minutes. We see objects around us not only as static, stationary things, but also things that hold potential. And if we ask ourselves, when we look at what’s around us, what’s of more interest? Their simple aesthetic or what potential they hold? Both are important and no doubt what we see changes all the time. The pot of coriander growing on my kitchen windowsill adds some welcome greenery to the room, but I think also of is its the potential for flavouring my lunch or tomorrow’s supper. Both components - the static form and the potential - make complete the ‘now’.
To test whether this is so, consider ‘now’ without the future component. All objects become inert clumps of still material. Without possibility, these objects are stripped of their purpose. A fork resting on the table ceases to be a functional fork. It’s just a piece of metal fashioned into a shape resembling something we call a fork. It becomes a fake fork.
So, who are we stripped of future possibility? What would a life look like without that future component? Dynamism and movement, gone. And without seeing and feeling potential, are we too stripped of purpose?