James Ussher, an Irish priest and religious scholar, asserted the creation of the universe took place on October 22, 4004 BCE, just 4057 years and a day before my birthday. Georgi Gospodinov, a Bulgarian writer, wrote in his novel, Time Shelter (which won the 2023 International Booker Prize), that some people suggest creation took place at around 6:00 in the afternoon. Naturally, I am curious about world events that occurred from 4057 years before I was born to the present. But I am especially interested about what occurred in the days and weeks and months before Creation: October 22, 4004 BCE. Time, as we imagine it today, would have been impossible before October 22, 4004 BCE. In fact, nothing would have been possible before that date. Except, of course, the creation of the universe. But, wait, that can’t be right. At some moment before the impossible event took place, the impossible had become possible, even if only for a fraction of what we now call a second. Yet, if time began at roughly 6:00 p.m. on October 22, 2004 BCE, possibilities did not exist before that moment because possibilities are based on time. Before and during and after. Generic time. The existence of time is a necessary requisite for everything. Time cannot exist in the absence of life and death, either. Yet that assertion makes life an impossibility, too, because life is the absence of death…or is it the precursor? But there it is again…generic time (like an attribute owned by a word like “precursor) intruding on my ability to understand anything, because all things depend on time for their very existence. Rocks could not be formed without the passage of time. Planning would go by the wayside if time did not exist as a measure against progress toward a plan. Leaves on trees…and the other parts of trees, as well, require time to grow; so, no time, no trees. What of the indescribable moments before 6:00 p.m. on October 22, 4004 BCE? Am I expected to believe there was NOTHING? No air, no Earth, no moon, stars, no pre-existent bones of dinosaurs that died long before time commenced its never-ending prelude to everything? And how could there have been a “tomorrow” on October 21, 4004 BCE…since there was no “today” during that slice of non-existent duration? Every living being dies without getting answers to fundamental questions about life, so what’s the point of living? Apparently, it’s not to get answers to questions that go unanswered for hundreds of generations.
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Wearing a self-designed parachute, Franz Reichelt jumped off the Eifel Tower on February 4, 1912 to prove the viability of his invention, plunging to his death. A scratchy video of the tragic event, widely available online, brings to mind the question that invariably arises when driver slow to a crawl as they roll by accidents on the highway: are the watchers slowing in the interest of safety, or are they voyeurs yielding to their morbid curiosity?
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Phaedra is slightly more tolerant of me now than she was the day we brought her home from the recycling center…you know, the place that receives recyclable paper and plastics and so on in exchange for delivering already-pregnant sexually-active kittens. My tolerance of her has increased during that time, as well. My tolerance would grow dramatically, though, if she were to magically transform into a self-watering, self-walking, self-feeding dog whose devotion to me were obvious with every step and every wag of her tail. Speaking of tails…dogs wag, cats swish. We cannot say with certainty why they behave the way they do; we can surmise (based on questionable observable criteria), but cannot KNOW. Our respective languages are separated in the same way that sonic differences exist between car engines and motorcycle engines. When a person screams and flips his finger at you, you can know with some confidence the person is upset with you. But when a dog wags her tail and smiles and you, she could be thinking about biting off your arm…and you would not know it until you feel her teeth rip into your flesh. We pretend we know what dogs and cats are thinking or saying, but we don’t. If, in human years, your Dobermann is 14 years old, he’s like an unpredictable 13 year-old child who treats you with admiration and love and respect, all while plotting your demise with the help of his closest friends. Don’t turn your back on the beast.
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There is no coming to consciousness without pain.
Carl Jung
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Traces of who I used to be slip away every night, when I dream. Memories wander into the darkness, replaced by imaginary moments. The people I wish I had become get lost among the crowds of people who occupy my mind. I remember the members of those crowds, but most of them do not remember me…at least not who I am now.
