treading time with Moriarty and Mitrofan

 

Time is of the essence

 

Ah – but wait a minute

 

Yes?

 

That’s just a cliché – it doesn’t actually mean…

 

Doesn’t?

 

Well, no – how could it?

 

There’s the rub – the truth has to be concealed somewhere, doesn’t it, and the truth doesn’t like to be buried in bank vaults far from prying eyes, or in sepulchers among dusty bones.

 

So it’s hidden in plain sight among banalities – where it’s least expected?

 

Precisely.

 

And if you’re right; if it’s true – then time is nothing less than a ginormous piece of the overall puzzle.

 

[pregnant pausing]

 

A philosopher’s stone of no substance whatsoever.

 

Ay, or at the same time – a wild goose chase and a gimongous red herring.

 

Oh.

 

Because if time is of the essence – and we are evidently creatures, in some respects, of time – time travellers, if you like.

 

Oh.

 

Then focusing on time the thing – whether that be the kronos or kairos aspect

 

Wait a minute – you can’t just introduce another aspect of time!

 

Actually it has nothing to do with me. The Greeks liked these nice distinctions.

 

The Greeks – like they had nothing better to do back then.

So it would appear – but then again – we wouldn’t be here without them – would we?

 

Not if you’re kronos linear time holds true… We are children of whoever-whatever came before, are we not?

 

Yep.

 

But what about kairos?

 

Well that’s the carpe diem aspect of time, isn’t it?

 

Living in the moment – the eternal now?

 

Yep. For what it’s worth.

 

But why couldn’t they just be satisfied with one word for time, like us?

 

Who knows, Mitrofan, and frankly, who cares?

 

Huh?

 

Well, why would you expect or want them to see things the same way you do?

 

Well, presumably because I see things more or less the way they are!

 

Yes, perhaps you do – but then again – things are the way they are partly because they’re no longer the way they were – because the past has already been lived and experienced – digested and excreted if you want to get teleological.

 

Not particularly – I think it’s needlessly anthropomorphic of you to assume that “things” can or should be part of a digestive process.

 

Well, you’re feelings must be vital to the way that things are being expressed and experienced in this particular moment in time which begs the question…

 

Huh?

 

Does it not?

 

Er, what question?

 

Whether things can be experienced without subjective feelings? Whether we are part of the bacterial digestive process by which things are able to pass through the gut of reality itself.

 

You’re making me feel sick. Kindly cease and desist.

 

In any case – two is hardly excessive. What about love?

 

What about love?

 

The Greeks weren’t content with one word for love.

 

No?

 

Guess how many variants they had?

 

Oh, two or three I expect.

 

Two or three? Not even close.

 

Oh – maybe four then?

Agape, eros, philia, storge, mania, ludus, pragma to name but seven.

 

Seven?

 

Not to mention philautia – self-love.

 

How bizarre. Aren’t you going to explain what they all mean?

 

No. It’s easy enough to find out, if you’re even vaguely interested, but more to the point – with all those variants they didn’t really have a single overarching concept – love in our sense of love.

 

Well, I’m sure they did very well with their plurality of love.

 

And time.

 

Anything else?

 

Yes, the essence.

 

As in “ousia”.

 

Correct.

 

What of it?

 

The present participle of the Greek verb “to be” translated into Latin as “substantia” and “essentia” or substance and essence in English.

 

Oh – so now we’re the ones to blame for needless plurality?

 

Yes. Ousia in Ancient Greek encompasses the concepts of essence, substance and being. Three in one.

 

And what’s the take away from all this?

 

Words. Things.

 

Thoughts. Interpretation.

 

What-have-you’s.

 

Willy-nilly’s

 

Hey nonny nonny’s.

 

In other words – no take away.

 

None of any particular substance or meaning.

 

A waste of time, if you ask me.

 

True. A woven net to catch or freeze time.

 

Pshaw!

 

The witching hour – to be precise.

 

And to what end?

 

No one knows.

 

No one?

 

You, me – we all know in our place of knowing – in our knowing ness.

 

Pshaw!

 

The witching hour when one day folds into a single point, when time, like the tide, flows back on itself, or ceases to flow at all – when things are not quite certain or fixed – as they experience the life of human conscious-ness while people mostly sleep.

 

Ah. You think it’s like that, is it?

 

Me thinks tis so. What I myself think is another matter.

 

Ah – there’s your bifurcation, Mitrofan.

 

Bob.

Bob.

 

Mitrofan.

 

 

0=1

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