When I was a young child, time dragged.

Remember the interminable wait for the end of the school year? Can you recall how deliciously long summer vacation seemed? I was sure that September would never come. It was like driving on the Pennsylvania freeway on vacation with my family, counting the mile markers with my brother–how long it took each one to appear.

Then somewhere in mid-life, time seemed to speed up. Instead of time passing like the mile markers of my childhood, time streamed by like fence posts while taking the cross-continental train through Canada——–tick——–tick——-tick.

And now? Days snap by like railroad ties: clack clack, clack clack, clack clack clack–and a week is gone. For the relative self, at least.

But for the sweet nothing that we truly are, time doesn’t exist. Aren’t you–when you check inside and notice your direct experience–aren’t you aware of something that’s just the same as forty years ago? In awareness, nothing moves at all.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
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