Time is the devil
It makes us forget who we are
Cats and dogs feel things based on the world as immediately experienced. The human, however, often interprets the experience through words and only then decides how to feel about it.
Thinking can be a detriment. For instance, I'd rather go hiking with someone who can sense or feel danger immediately than one who needs time to rationally conclude there's danger.
Thinking, however, is a human necessity. It's hard to imagine the human animal surviving in the wild without the ability to think. In tandem with the eyes to perceive patterns in the night sky, ancient humans could conceptualize the idea of "future." That's the basis of economic planning. With the future, we also conceptualize the past.
With past, present, and future, we have the invention of time.
To the best of my knowledge, all other animals live in the present. They may sense the change of seasons and know what to do based on experience, but they don't plan far ahead. And by being "present" in the present, animals don't have reason to feel bad.
The human concept of time, however, opens the door for us to dwell on the past or on the future. We often look to the future with worry, and to the past with shame and guilt.
It makes me doubt that the human is a uniquely spiritual being. It's as likely that God, or spirit, lives in everything. What sets humans apart is angst, which we created when we created time.
I'm currently in a book club studying Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth. He emphasizes the importance of being "present" in the present moment, instead of rehashing the past or worrying about the future. This theme, however, is as old as spirituality itself.
When the housecat looks out the window, he's not mourning a recent breakup or worrying about a forthcoming job interview. He's present in the moment.
And that makes me think time is itself the "original sin." By thinking about the past and future, humans forget their own spiritual selves.
The invention and use of time is how humans have survived and will survive, but we must not allow it to make us miserable.
James Leroy Wilson writes from Nebraska. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter. If you enjoy his articles, subscribe and exchange value for value. You may contact James for your writing, editing, and research needs: jamesleroywilson-at-gmail.com. Permission to reprint is granted with attribution.
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