No time to waste——because there’s no time. It’s an illusion. Or a mass delusion.
Charitable offerings: to sacrifice time, to make time, to spend time. But if time is one of our delusions, is the sacrifice a delusion as well? Or could we say the sacrifice is honorable due to the intent?
Intentions rule over ignorance? How do we correct the ignorance? How do we teach good intentions? How do we teach others that time is measured only by earthlings?
Human hives—decorated with clocks—pretend to rely on precision in time-keeping. Precision, sure. “No one in this house ever says, ‘We’re going to be late!’”
Sure. We eat at exactly the same time every day. We sleep and rise from sleep at the same time every day. We’re like clockwork, we are.
Not only that, but the moments of the day mesh like cogs. The meeting we scheduled lines up, bordering perfectly with our travel, and travel stays separate from our home life, never interrupts, never overlaps. No need for buffers between one event and the other.
Even if this is the second time I said this, the second time you’ve heard it, it has only counted once. Reiterations are relative. Relative to the source. Relative to the recipient.
No wonder we become incensed to listening! We hear things repeated so many times, we barely recognize them after the one hundred and one millionth time. Reiterations make reality fuzzy, disarmed, disconnected in fragments.
No profound recollections will make time’s or today’s faded edges more clear.
Xenosthesia.com 