The title of this post, oh gentle reader, is a quote from Henry David Thoreau. Time does seem to move like a river, or better stated, recollection seems like a river that one can travel back on. Time traveling if you will. Bends in the river obscuring what actually has already passed.
Being with a 93 year old man makes me realize how odd memory is. Our memories can make us better at what we do, but a lack of memory doesn't really prevent one from being alive.
I am asked by my grandfather if I have my aunts' dog with me. He comments that I have grown a lot, which I finished doing 20 years ago.
So is there really only now? Reality seems to unfurl itself continuously in a single moment. It is just our finite cellular structure that decays, all in this one contantly morphing and moving moment.
I need to go back and read what Edgar Cayce said about time. Be right back....
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