When you’re not as young as you used to be the month of January behaves like a mosquito. Not only does it keep on buzz buzz buzzing stupid cliches in your head likeTime is Marching On, You’re Not As Young as You Used To Be, The End is Nigher Than You Think and so on, but it’s also literally after your blood - allright that’s pushing it a bit, but how better to describe a month that won’t shut up about how little time is still allotted to you in the chronoilllogical calendar of your life?
Even though my health and general joie de vivre are in good working order, thanks to God and my DNA and my ancestors and whatever other miracles may be responsible for such a blessing, there are frequent moments in January, possibly more than in other months, when I am struck - nay, buzzed - by the awareness that not only am I not as young as I used to be but even older than I used to be a few minutes ago.
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We spent yesterday evening watching a science fiction film [not SF - science fantasy] called, "Interstellar." The film tackled the problem of the relativity of time - among other themes. There was one line in the film that stood out a mile for me, because it reflected my feeling. That line was,
"I don't fear death; it is time that I fear."
I echo that sentiment, Tom!
Time is here and now. Death is the nowhere which is over there.
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