What happened to TIME, no not the magazine, time itself, as in seconds, minutes and hours?
When I watch the second hand move around an analog clock, everything looks normal. It ticks the same way it always has. But when I turn my attention to the minute hand and the hour hand, well, they're a different story. Obviously, I could never really see them move, and yet, today, they are definitely going faster than they used to. I mean, I can still remember when afternoons seemed to go on forever. When summer went lingered. And when school felt like it would never, ever end. Now, I glance at the clock, then glance again a moment later and an hour has passed. Or more. Whereas I once hoped for the clock to move faster, now I wish it would slow down.
My dad has a theory about this: he thinks, the older we get, the slower we sample the world around us. In other words, our eyes and other senses take in the world in a continuous way, but our brains grab only samples, much like a motion picture opens its shutter (our eyes) and projects the world onto moving film (our brains). When we're young, the brain captures samples at blinding speed, packing each and every second with gobs of information. But as we age, this sample rate slows, and since we are not noticing as much of the world around us as we used to, the world seems to move faster. To go back to the film analogy, we go from capturing every frame to every other. Sigh.
This depressing theory is on my mind because I cannot believe that three years have passed since I suffered my TBI (traumatic brain injury). THREE YEARS. More than three years, really. And well over two have passed since I first hatched plans to make an album. Ack. Worse, despite being less than busy, at least relative to my pace before I fell, I feel like I am racing against the clock more than ever. And if my dad's theory is right -- and I think it is -- I am not imagining an ever faster clock. It really is running faster, according to how I perceive it.
What to do? Work harder than ever to make every moment count, to not dwell on the bad stuff, to finish my album and start another, to do more therapy, to live MORE not LESS.
Because as the Stones so sagely pointed out -- while they were still kids, I might add -- time waits for no one and it won't wait for me.