Does time flow at a constant speed as indicated by the clocks? Or is the speed totally psychological?
This is not the first time I am asking this question to myself. This week I have wondered about it too often. Most of the times the time seems to fly at unbelievable speed, and sometimes it seems to have stopped altogether.
In my experience, the periods of your life when the time seems to have stopped or slowed down excruciatingly are the most important, educative and memorable. The statement wouldn’t seem outlandish if you realize that time slows down or stops only under certain conditions:
- The moments of utter contentment.
- The moments of waiting for someone or something too eagerly.
- The moments of suffering.
What do you think is the common element in these three situations?
Even though you know that being impatient is not going to help in any way, you can’t really help it. In these times, if you manage to control your impatience, you feel as if you have been totally drained of your energy. You feel like having given up, you feel a state of resignation, and the time seems to be wading through thick morass of molasses. You know that the things are happening on their own right and sweet time, and that it is only your foolishness which causes you to expect them to happen a bit sooner (a lot actually, to tell the truth). But you feel utterly helpless and forlorn, and can’t summon up the serenity required.