If there is no time, only now, why do we leave post-it notes to ourselves? Why do we bookmark books? In more drastic words, if the future doesn’t exist, then why must we remember anything at all?
What do we mean when we claim there is a timeless now moment in which time exists? It sounds boring, like we’re going through the motions of living simply because we’re blinded to the next moment, the next and the next. Is life truly this dullard’s game?
One wonders if the beating heart has the same concerns. Likely not. Likely, the beating heart is too invested in beating—is doing its proper moment-to-moment-in-the-now action—to consider the possibility that it’s leading a dull existence. The heart lives the joy of its aliveness, not a step removed with thought filling the gap.
One is never bored when one’s actions are all-enveloping and fulfilling. Boredom is for those trapped in hypotheticals. Still, let’s not avoid the question any longer: Why do we need to remember to do anything in the future if it is writ?
Isn’t it because this action, which we call time, is what we do? We appear to unfold. We are that appearance, that action. Unfolding is us beating as a billion hearts and why our billion hearts beat. It is simply what we do. When struggling against the simplicity of this fact is what we do with it, we create a harsh, repressed world for ourselves and those around us. We create this crumbling mess of a world we see today.
We clog our arteries and call it progress.