How long is now?


Once again I’m drawn to the question of “How long is now?”

Now is a moment, each of them stacked in my memory; their weight affects me either as an anchor – holding me stable, or others with a kinetic energy that keeps me moving towards a goal or destiny.

Each moment of intersection between time and place that passes is gone forever and only exists because we have our memory.

Without memory there is only now.

What about some lesser animals that live predominately by instinct. They would have less put away – just enough to help them survive until the next breeding cycle, or long enough to nurture their offspring to maturity or independence – never looking further forward than their next meal; their next breath; their next heartbeat; their next thought.

Watching simple creatures like this would be f-ing boring so imagine its excitement when it discovers creatures who plan, and learn, and care about their role in the place they inhabit? It would try to help them, let them know it is here, that it exists.