I'm fascinated by timescales and cycles that don't adhere to normal human reckoning or expectation and the interaction between human-scale activities and those longer natural cycles.
I grew up in Connecticut, and there is a hill not far from my parents house where heavy construction equipment was parked in the 1970s. The soil is clayish and became heavily compacted. I played on that hill as a child, and from my first recollection of it in the 1980s till I graduated from high school, it was barren but for a few brave grass-like plants and some moss. Years went by without any apparent change.
But I returned there this year — 35 years after I first played on it — and there were brambly shrubs and tiny trees growing on the hill after so many years oa barren stasis. I sat there wondering. Had someone been at work here? Had some nutrients or organic matter been added? Year after year, cycle after cycle, it appeared to not be changing at all, and then suddenly, this?
No, I realized. It wasn't a human. Only time had been at work, below the threshold of human perception. Those tiny pioneer plants I'd seen as a child had been building organic material and methodically breaking up the clay hardpan so water could penetrate. Watching year to year you'd never know, but across 35 years you could just start to see it.
Pluto takes three human lifetimes to orbit the sun. A man's may have lived his life, sired a son, and that son may have brought up a grandchild that has become a greybird before it comes back around to where it started.
Humans reduced Arizona's forest cover by 60% in about a century, and it would take 1-3,000 years for it to regrow without human help due to the dry climate and other factors, making the regrowth cycle I observed in Connecticut impossible to note.
My only point being that our normal frame of reference for things — the seasons, or the span of a man's life — is wholly inadequate for understanding much of what goes on around us, and what normal even is.
Not a babble at all, these are fascinating observations! I've seen mountain valleys that I was told were carved u-shaped by glaciers. You can understand it in a rational way, but it's impossible to really grasp the time scale of how that happened and then receded into what exists now. And contrast that with the lifespan of some flowers or insect that last less than a day. It's unfathomable!
Damn, you continue to knock it out of the park. I said earlier that I'm REALLY. LOVING. your shorter pieces, and I'll say it again: this was spectacular. So much packed into a short essay. I especially loved this line (and the one I...already restacked!) "I want to fill my time with moments of wonder. But in looking back at what could have been or forward to what I don’t yet have, do I risk losing the present moment?" That's such an enormous question. It's one that tried to eat me alive for many years...I think there's a way to both look ahead with anticipation and hope, AND enjoy the moment, enjoy the present second of simply existing. If you only exist within the present, (in my experience) you will stagnate and lose forward striving towards goals....I think it's intrinsically human to want a purpose, to want something to work for and to achieve. And if you only exist within the past or within the future, then you lose the present, as you aptly say. You goalpost your life away, and then you wake up when you're a decade or so older and say "what the heck..have I done with my days?"
Anyway...I'm obviously... a little worked up on this topic. I love it; our messed-up relationship with Time.
These are also great observations! I tend to lean heavily towards finding a purpose and working hard towards achieving future goals, but often look up from the metaphorical desk to see some great times have slipped by. I don't want to let that happen with this autumn season, so even though I have bigger things I'm hoping to do, I still want to show up for the day by day and just watch the season progress. You're awesome Niki and thanks for sharing!
Great story and images Erik (love the light and composition of your last image). I can really relate to feeling the passage of time - I wonder if writing a blog has made me more reflective?
Thank you James, that last image is definitely my favorite! It is astounding how much this type of writing affects my experiences and solidifies my thoughts. An interesting process, for sure!
Lovely words Erik and some beautiful images. A really calming and thought provoking post for a Sunday morning.
Thanks Gill! I took inspiration from you when I re-visited this familiar local place.
That's nice to know Erik. I really enjoyed the contemplative tone in your writing.
These are beautiful pictures and thoughts, Erik.
I'm fascinated by timescales and cycles that don't adhere to normal human reckoning or expectation and the interaction between human-scale activities and those longer natural cycles.
I grew up in Connecticut, and there is a hill not far from my parents house where heavy construction equipment was parked in the 1970s. The soil is clayish and became heavily compacted. I played on that hill as a child, and from my first recollection of it in the 1980s till I graduated from high school, it was barren but for a few brave grass-like plants and some moss. Years went by without any apparent change.
But I returned there this year — 35 years after I first played on it — and there were brambly shrubs and tiny trees growing on the hill after so many years oa barren stasis. I sat there wondering. Had someone been at work here? Had some nutrients or organic matter been added? Year after year, cycle after cycle, it appeared to not be changing at all, and then suddenly, this?
No, I realized. It wasn't a human. Only time had been at work, below the threshold of human perception. Those tiny pioneer plants I'd seen as a child had been building organic material and methodically breaking up the clay hardpan so water could penetrate. Watching year to year you'd never know, but across 35 years you could just start to see it.
Pluto takes three human lifetimes to orbit the sun. A man's may have lived his life, sired a son, and that son may have brought up a grandchild that has become a greybird before it comes back around to where it started.
Humans reduced Arizona's forest cover by 60% in about a century, and it would take 1-3,000 years for it to regrow without human help due to the dry climate and other factors, making the regrowth cycle I observed in Connecticut impossible to note.
My only point being that our normal frame of reference for things — the seasons, or the span of a man's life — is wholly inadequate for understanding much of what goes on around us, and what normal even is.
Anyway, bit of a babble. Nice writing.
Not a babble at all, these are fascinating observations! I've seen mountain valleys that I was told were carved u-shaped by glaciers. You can understand it in a rational way, but it's impossible to really grasp the time scale of how that happened and then receded into what exists now. And contrast that with the lifespan of some flowers or insect that last less than a day. It's unfathomable!
Damn, you continue to knock it out of the park. I said earlier that I'm REALLY. LOVING. your shorter pieces, and I'll say it again: this was spectacular. So much packed into a short essay. I especially loved this line (and the one I...already restacked!) "I want to fill my time with moments of wonder. But in looking back at what could have been or forward to what I don’t yet have, do I risk losing the present moment?" That's such an enormous question. It's one that tried to eat me alive for many years...I think there's a way to both look ahead with anticipation and hope, AND enjoy the moment, enjoy the present second of simply existing. If you only exist within the present, (in my experience) you will stagnate and lose forward striving towards goals....I think it's intrinsically human to want a purpose, to want something to work for and to achieve. And if you only exist within the past or within the future, then you lose the present, as you aptly say. You goalpost your life away, and then you wake up when you're a decade or so older and say "what the heck..have I done with my days?"
Anyway...I'm obviously... a little worked up on this topic. I love it; our messed-up relationship with Time.
These are also great observations! I tend to lean heavily towards finding a purpose and working hard towards achieving future goals, but often look up from the metaphorical desk to see some great times have slipped by. I don't want to let that happen with this autumn season, so even though I have bigger things I'm hoping to do, I still want to show up for the day by day and just watch the season progress. You're awesome Niki and thanks for sharing!
Love this! "Looking up from the metaphorical desk." Autumn has a funny way of reminding us to slow down and be present.
It really does!
Very enjoyable 5 minutes spent this morning. Thanks!
Great story and images Erik (love the light and composition of your last image). I can really relate to feeling the passage of time - I wonder if writing a blog has made me more reflective?
Thank you James, that last image is definitely my favorite! It is astounding how much this type of writing affects my experiences and solidifies my thoughts. An interesting process, for sure!