a massive inversion, a wild inflection, a deep shift in the nature of our lives. I don’t know exactly how things will look afterward—I’m not even sure how they look now—but there’s change in the air, I can smell it.
It smells a little like spring, also happening now, but with more excitement in it, and also more threatening overtones—more of the musky hint of fear.
But in any case, time marches on for us, since we live in the western metaphysical universe and don’t get to choose the natures of our clocks and life narratives—the natures of the universals under which we labor. They were given to us by elders and authorities.
“Time,” they said, “is progressive.” And thus it is. And thus we must be as well. And so the changes are happening and we will see how we do in living with them. We have no choice.
Humans, after all, have come far enough to be able to create and start time, but not far enough—as we can see everywhere today—to have the first clue about how to stop it once again.