Time is a mystery. Existence is a mystery, too.
It is not easy to measure time, at least not beyond its scientific and technical aspects. The experience of time is unique and individual for each person. For me, time is connected to the energy of being alive. Without the force of life, there is no time. They are bound together in intensity and speed, but there is no simple formula.
In my time, I read a lot of mathematics and physics at school and later studied law at university. So, I also know the importance of definitions and accuracy of things. But life eventually made me a storyteller and writer who tends to think more freely about the concept of time, too.
I feel that individuals carry along the time of many other people, not just their own—even the time of those already gone or those not yet born. For most of us, the experience of time is related to the beginning of life, its existence throughout the years, and finally, the end.
The birth means the start of the individual time – and the death a full stop ending the life story.
But is there possibly some time for us, even before and after both ends of the curve? Is there some collective time, perhaps a collective memory, that carries the time regardless of the dimensions of human life? Are we connected to that time? At least for me, this perception gives comfort, a sense of belonging to some larger entity.
Sometimes, magic happens when a person's mind is overwhelmed, facing huge matters beyond one's capacity. It may be possible to experience that time disappears, and it doesn't matter. There is only the present moment, the pure existence, which includes everything before and after. The little soul floats and rests in the middle of an infinite amount of time.
At its best, the feeling of endless time is very liberating. As I write stories, I get a grip on that infinite time. I feel the past and future tell me their stories and send their message to my readers.
I just dive in, and it makes me happy, too!