The time that we occupy this world, this body and this place, always seems so abundant, as though it were forever, but I am reflecting how this sense of time is deceiving. This past month of January felt incredibly long and busy for me, to the point where the beginning of January actually feels like a distant, faraway country. But this sense of time only comes from the fact that one is very occupied. In fact, the same amount of time is passing every moment, if we can even all these units of successive change "time". After all, what is actually passing through time itself? What essence "changes" through time?
Something that seems to last forever----an ache, a pain, a sense of burden-is actually only a repeated habitual way of thinking that is subject to change any moment. It's false to believe that these things are forever, and it's even more false to project a feeling of having all the time in the world. In fact, every moment, the world is being constructed anew. There is no time, only this time, eternally. And yet...yet there is no time, because that eternity is constantly changing. Does any of this teach one the importance of gratitude?
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