Time, Geographically Represented
(A reflection by Sal Godoij).
If I had to represent the past, present, and future in geographical terms, this is what I would say:
The past is like an ocean: deep in some places, where worlds of wonder, shipwrecks, and sea monsters hide; shallow in others, full of colourful coral reefs where we can swim safely and see the bottom.
The present is like an archipelago rising from this ocean. Life happens here. The force of the water floods, shapes, and reshapes the islands. Some islands slowly sink, becoming coast, then reef, then seabed, until one day another island rises from what remains. We spend our lives swimming from one island to another.
The future is like sunlight: a dawn that comes too fast, briefly illuminates us, and disappears into the islands of the present, then becomes ocean. The sensation it leaves is that everything it touches could have been better.
But the future, like sunlight, follows its course. We have no way to deny it or stop it from coming toward us, no matter how well or badly we imagine it. Sunlight is here anyway, reaching every seed, every fruit, every hope, and every wish. But not everything matures well under sunlight; sometimes, it rots. We can admire a beautiful sunrise above the mountains or the sea and say, “Today will be the day,” only for it not to be. We can wonder what that new day will bring. We can plan the future, but only in our minds. As I said, the future has its own rules. We can imagine it, but we cannot move there. Standing on our island, we dream that one day we will touch what we have dreamed of with our bare hands; yet the moment we breathe, the future becomes our present.
And so we work and dream down here in this archipelago, swimming in the ocean of the past between the islands of the present in search of comfort or hope, and at the same time, the sunlight, the future, follows us wherever we go, bewitching us. Yet that is only what we think, because the truth is that we are the ones who bewitch ourselves with the idea of the future. And this is what keeps us restlessly swimming between islands, always chasing ghosts.
