Category Archives: musings

Musings. Brain dump. Uncategorized.

The Fluidity of Time

Turning clocks backwards and forwards always leads me to believe that time is arbitrary — an agreed-upon method of segmenting the day for common reference despite whatever natural inclinations the body might have.

While timekeeping has existed for millenia, standardization of time across the globe is a relatively modern practice. Up until the late eighteenth century, precise schedules were not kept. It wasn’t until the nineteenth century and the industrial revolution with its vast rail and communication networks that standardizing and synchronizing time across large regions became a necessity of doing business.

The history and practice of daylight savings is well-documented, and there is no need to cover it here. Read Seize the Daylight and the story of DST will be made clear.

What’s more interesting is the concept of time itself.

To the ancients, time was quite often literally and figuratively fluid.

While sundials that relied on celestial bodies have been in use for millennia, water clocks — used by Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Persian, Chinese and other cultures — seem somehow more important as these devices could measure time at night.

Anyone could look to the sky and know approximately when it was — between dawn and noon, noon and dusk, dusk and night — simply by the position of the sun. But knowing the hours that would pass between the dusk and dawn? That took ingenuity. And water.

Water Clock Water clocks were usually simple stone vessels with slanted sides that allowed water to drip at a nearly constant rate from a hole in the bottom. Others were bowl-shaped containers designed to slowly fill up with water coming in at a constant rate. Another version consisted of a metal bowl with a small hole in in its base that when placed in a container of water would fill and sink in a consistent manner that could be measured (as is the case with the bowl seen here).

In the measuring of time with water, there may even be a deeper religious meaning known to the ancients: that of gods and goddesses associated with water also being somehow connected to the passage of days, months, and years. The Egyptian god Thoth, for example — seen as a god of  wisdom and the measurement and regulation of events — is often depicted as having the head of an ibis: a water bird. Many gods associated with the passing of time, like the Chinese Shou Xing, carry water. Indeed, it would seem that associating water with time transcends religion and is in our very psyche; it would explain the fabled fountain of youth — waters sought by explorer Juan Ponce de Leon and conqueror Alexander the Great. It would explain why a sip of water from the Holy Grail could grant immortality.

“Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current.” — Marcus Aurelius

Measuring time with water seems only natural then if water that is supernatural can be a restorative element against the ravages of time.

And if in your part of the globe you participate in the ritual that is the return to standard time, keep in mind that although your clocks may be turned back, you can not turn back the tide of time.

Meteors and The Popular Imagination

When we look to the sky, our imaginations soar. But for many people — ancient and modern, across wide expanse of geography and culture — the night sky has meant nightmares. And among those things of which some cultures are still afraid are oft-misunderstood meteors.

Perseids
Photo courtesy of NASA.

Every August around this time, our planet passes through debris from the comet Swift-Tuttle. The result: the Persied meteor shower (named for the constellation Perseus, out of which the perseids seem to appear). Igniting the night sky with sudden and often striking streaks of light, these meteors — simply bits of dust and ice — will burn up in the earth’s atmosphere just as the eye catches glimpse of them. Rates can get as high as 100 meteors per hour.

Many of us will marvel at the event. Most will sleep through it. But some will actually avert their eyes.

In many parts of eastern Europe, for example, among some Slavic peoples, seeing a meteor sets one ill at ease. For it is believed that everyone has a personal star that falls upon his or her death.

Residents of the village of Carancas in Peru became convinced that they were sickened by a meteorite that fell to earth in September, 2007.

Indeed, in the Book of Revelation, such sickness is foretold when an angel blows his trumpet and a star falls from heaven “blazing like a torch.” Contaminating a third of the world’s rivers and springs, “many died from the water, because it was made bitter.” (Revelation 8:10-11)

In ancient Egypt and Greece, meteorites were thought to be of the gods, and were venerated as such. They were objects to revered, not so much as feared, but nonetheless were seen as portents of something momentous.

There is even evidence among early Native American peoples that meteors were seen as omens — of good times and bad. Among the latter were the Blackfeet of Montana who believed a meteor was a sign that sickness would come to the tribe in the coming winter. Then there were the Cahuilla of southern California that believed meteors were signs of the spirit of their first shaman, Takwich. Disliked by his peole,  Takwich was said to wander the night sky, looking for Cahuilla that had wandered from their tribe so that he could fall upon them and steal their spirit.

Most comically, the Nunamiut Eskimos and the Koasati of Louisiana believed meteors to be the feces of stars.

Still, for every tale of doom, gloom and celestial excrement, there are dozens more from cultures from all over the globe that tell of good fortune follows the sighting of a meteor. Indeed, as children of Disney, we are told that when we wish upon a (falling?) star, our dreams will come true.

So this weekend, if you decide to look to the skies, keep in mind that if there is any meaning in the sighting of meteors, it is in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps better than seeing meteors are signs of good or ill from the heavens, we should instead look to celestial events as inspiration for living. For after all, we live but a short time, eventually burning out in the atmosphere of our own lives. We are not permanent. We need not live in fear of anything except that which prevents us from truly living.

Jack London once wrote: “I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live… I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time” (The Bulletin, San Francisco, California, December 2, 1916).

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