Sometimes one comes to contemplate on the flowing of life as the contents of an hourglass. Sand flows on, marking time. The sand cannot be stopped, slowed, or speeded up; it cannot be held on to, or let down in a rush, or eliminated altogether; it exists whether you wish it to, or not. The continuum can only possibly be broken by the smashing of the glass.
Isn’t that what life is? Sand through a bubble of transparency. Our perspective is the stationery, narrow chute through which time passes on from our future to our past, until we run out of the potential energy converted to kinetic energy and lie still, a conical mound of dirt.
Nearly all sand granules in an hourglass are the same. Yet, they pass individually, continually… on. Forward, or downward, is simply a matter of perspective. If such care has been given to make every moment of time an exclusive presence in the consciousness, then maybe we should acknowledge them as such, too. Because the running of time is unstoppable – and, what’s more, inevitable. All we can really do is savour it.