There are a few different schools of thought that overlap to theorize ‘time as we know it’ only exists as we encourage it to do so. For many of us with neuro-divergent brains, this is an easy theory to explore. What is time, truly, but a ticking clock or {method} to track the process of decomposition or aging?
I’ll share with you a personal experience of mine; you may believe whatever you choose:
Years ago I’d begun a vision quest because I’ve long been seeking deep wisdom and healing. I was meditating regularly, seeking a guide to aid my journey. My spousums and essential teacher taught me how to create a ‘meeting room’ in which to I could safely await even the most powerful entities without frying my mortal mind—think of it like a pocket dimension. The door I used was strengthened by my spirit; so that when it was closed, my connection to the room was completely sealed.
One day I heard or felt a ‘call’ that I couldn’t really place {there was someone waiting in my room, but because life is distracting and I forget things constantly} so I settled into some meditation to explore the sensation. Relaxing into focus on where the call came from, I follow it to my meeting room.
There’s a man sitting on my lovely couch, his dusty renaissance style leather boots on my little coffee table—he looks relaxed and cocky, as if he’s been waiting for me to show up. Communication is telepathic and information is exchanged instantly; this is my protector and if I’m ready to travel…
I visit many spaceships and they’re usually enormous, this one was no exception. I stand amongst a small group of people {8-12} on a guided tour. There’s a completely huge window in front of us {20ft tall perhaps, twice as wide} overlooking the vast, multi-level interior of this part of the ship. I can see small rooms, like cubbies, dotting the far wall. At least 15 little classrooms and the ‘ground level’ {at the base of this section of the ship} children sit en masse around yet another teacher. High above them, cylindrical pods hang filled with fluid—tubes flow from each pod to a massive reservoir.
As we are looking at this empty pod, abruptly there’s a tiny human baby in it. I’m told that these babies, these children, are all aborted fetuses and eventually they’ll help repopulate the Earth.
A little girl, perhaps age 9 looking, stands next to me—she is my guide. After she tells me about the children, it’s time for us to leave. The floor beneath us turns into a moving walkway that scoots right into space. As inexplicably as ‘what about the walls…’ the walkway vanishes beneath us and is sucked back into the ship. We begin to fall.
I can see a tiny speck that is a planet in the distance and shapeshift into a large spotted owl; my guide becomes a sparrow or hummingbird {forgive my memory} and our protector becomes a hawk.
We fly to the planet, which I’ve visited many times since then during dreams or meditations; we return to our ‘original’ forms and stand on a long path, our protector remains in hawk-form soaring high above us. The path is narrow, about 3ft wide, and feels like dry but soft dirt; on my right is a vast field of fluffy green grass that touches a huge, dense forest. On my left, there is only the grass that touches the path—my vision extends less than 10 ft.
I shapeshift into a centaur and my guide rides bareback. I trot along {because I imagine running like a horse, sometimes} until she tells me to stop. There’s something buried about 4ft off the edge of the path to the left. I shapeshifted into some animal form that bosses at digging, but don’t remember what.
There’s an old wooden chest—I return to my humanoid form and attempt to lift it, but this thing is very heavy. I shapeshift into a gorilla and haul the thing out.
Humanoid again, not to mention butt-ass naked because that’s how shapeshifting works, I open the chest. It’s filled with sand. I’m told “these are the sands of time”
Within minutes I slip out of the journey because I can’t continue until the question is answered: “if time is an illusion, how could it carry so much weight?”
With a notebook and pencil, I explored my knowledge and came up with a functional answer. In an episode of Star Trek {Fantasy Shoot-um Ranch} Spock tells the crew “the bullets are only as real as you believe them to be, but if you have doubt…they will kill you” {that’s paraphrased}. In the end, he doesn’t trust them or they don’t trust each other and Spock has to do a mind thing on them.
I also have Grant Morrison to thank for his contribution; during the 90’s he was spending a lot of time around Nevada, Arizona, etc because people were getting abducted by aliens and he wanted to get picked up. He did, apparently, and came back to tell us “the purpose of time is to grow larva.”
What does this mean for my day to day reality? I wake up in the dark of morning because my alarm goes off, telling me to rise for tasks. Several alarms go off during the day, to alert me to the passing of time because I don’t feel it naturally. 9am says I ought to take a dose of my ADHD medicine and noon says I ought to get some food.
What was human life before cellphones and ticking clocks? Moon time, sun time, seasons and stars in the sky…
“The sands of time are heavy because of the power we give time”
