Trust and hope are built on evidence—not on empty promises and blind confidence. The most successful con-artists, though, create believability by openly challenging their own lies. Using masterful and brazen manipulation, the most skillful schemers offer absolute assurances comprising nothing but vapor. Their convincing delivery of guarantees that have no substance supporting them can lead even the most astute among us to fall victim to their tactics. Their contemptible strategies have become so commonplace that the concepts of trust and hope seem obsolete—notions in which only the thoroughly gullible still believe. Human decency and morality…such desirable, but quaint, philosophies.
At a time in history—now—when trust in human decency and hope for strength in secular morality are so crucial, it is hard to tell whether the display of those attributes is real or not. Caution against being misled has become so vital that it grows into fear and the inability to know what is real and what is artificial. Who or what can we believe? We are advised to “have faith,” but urged to “be careful.” “Trust but verify” is the hallmark of this environment in which nothing can be accepted at face value. A line from Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah highlights the enigma: “Your faith was strong, but you needed proof.”
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The time between 3AM and 5AM simply vanished this morning. I spent almost all of that time at my desk, but I have not written enough to have filled all of those minutes. Where did those two hours go? How can such a long stretch of seconds and minutes just disappear…without a trace and without a memory? The same thing can happen with longer periods; the months between starting first grade and my first Christmas break from school, for example. Or my junior year in high school. The entire span of time I spent in college. Adulthood. And old age is zipping by faster than the speed of light. Is it possible, I wonder, for a person to experience reality at different speeds in different dimensions? That might explain the sensation of feeling young and old at the same time. Like learning to talk and learning to drive simultaneously. Or being born and starting my first full-time job just hours apart. It may be just my imagination, but I seem to have a vague memory of planting the first redwood tree in Muir Woods about 1377 years ago, give or take a month or so.
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I occasionally find myself awake in the wee hours. Someone from my distant past…or more recent…may enter my mind for just a flash or for several minutes. Almost every time that happens, I wonder whether the person on my my mind at that moment is thinking of me simultaneously. I know the unlikelihood of that coincidence is astronomically high, of course, but I wonder whether it could occur, anyway. When that thought goes through my mind, I am SOOO tempted to try to reach that person (assuming they’re still living). I realize, of course, it would be quite disturbing to the person on the receiving end of my phone call. Disturbing to the point of instilling fear that I might be a stalker or worse. I put myself in their shoes; it could more than a little upsetting, I must admit. Downright scary, actually. But it’s completely innocuous; just a fleeting thought. It could be flattering, actually. I wonder: am I alone in having such a fleeting thought?
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Dawn is approaching. I can tell by the very dim blue-grey spots of sky showing through the deep dark forest background.
“Living in ground rush…” I love it! That is an absolutely riveting way of looking at what seems to be the acceleration of time. What an intriguing way of putting one’s experiences in perspective. Thanks for sharing that, Dave. I remember the only experience I ever had with skydiving (actually, just a single tandem jump)…those final few seconds before being dragged across the ground by the wind as my feet, finally, reached terra firma were terrifying, indeed!
Skydivers have a term for the seeming acceleration of time. “Ground Rush.” After spending several minutes under the parachute’s canopy, with little change in perceived altitude, the last few seconds before hitting the ground are SO terrifying, as the ground rushes up to meet the skydiver, that they are taught to purposefully NOT LOOK at the ground (because that will result in the diver pulling up his feet, reducing his available leg-spring.). And, yes. Not looking down is as impossible as it sounds. “Slow as Christmas” is for a five-year-old – Christmas is 20% of his entire life! But to you and me, it is only a little over one percent. We are living in ground rush, pulling up our feet as the ground (literally) rushes up to meet us and arrest our descent.