Time and tide wait for no man. It’s an old saying but it has its own relentless logic, time advances by the measure of a clock and tides flow ceaselessly in tune with the pull of the moon. Both are indifferent to our plans, dreams, or procrastinations. Whether we like it or not, we’re all just passengers in time’s currents.
We are, however, also entangled within these currents. Therein lies our sense of agency — our big brains predicting the bigger engines of change and moving in accordance with the ebb and flow.
Humans are relentless prediction engines of survival but that same instinct for survival also instils in us fear — fear of the unknown, and ultimately fear of extinction as we edge along the conveyor belt until we fall off. But time is not a conveyor belt, it’s closer to a circle we go back to again and again, full of shifting cycles and patterns, complete with periods of action and moments of stillness. Our survival instinct tells us to swim and navigate rising tides, but we must also learn to simply move with the tide when it is at an ebb conserving our energy for the next move.
The Greeks had a word for this: Kairos — the right moment, distinct from the ticking clock of Chronos. Kairos is about the timing that matters, the kind that changes everything. Our lives are full of these moments, opportunities to act or reflect. We all carry these heightened moments, snatched memories from an otherwise largely forgotten childhood, moments of elation and of desolation, images that act as buoys in a vast expanse of ocean.
Time, then, isn’t just a background noise; it’s a living force, pushing and pulling us in ways we often don’t notice. I’m reminded of the koan story of the two fish, one younger, one older in which the younger fish asks ‘What is the sea?’ to its elder companion to which it replies: “You are in it and you are the also the life of the sea. Though you may not see it, it is all around you.”
In the same manner our own activities send ripples through time, affecting not just our future but the very fabric of the present. Time, ever fluid moves with and through us, and we’re part of its flow.
When the tide pulls back, it reveals what’s usually hidden. The ebb of time works the same way. These are the moments when life slows down, when we’re not just charging ahead. It’s in these pauses that we can step back, see the bigger picture, and understand the paths we’ve taken.
I turned 60 this year — chronologically I am baffled that I reached this milestone and certainly don’t recognize an old man in the mirror when I glance there in the mornings. Initially, I was wondering what this decade would bring but one of the biggest changes early on was an end to a permanent job contract that lasted the best part of a decade. Earlier in my career, I might have been filled with anxiety, but this time, with the perspective of age, work one realizes, like everything else, is temporary.
I’m still committed to an active working life but hopefully this time, on my own terms and more closely aligned to the natural flows of rest and motion. I also committed to a longer term project last year by buying a 120 year old school house with my wife in the Finnish countryside — it’s a project that will undoubtedly extend beyond my own lifespan, but in the peace of the countryside, I look forward to tuning into the deeper currents of my life, experiencing nature through the flowing seasons left to me and hopefully acquainting myself with what might come next.
Just like you, I carry no illusions that what comes next won’t be without its share of obstacles and surprises but I refuse to allow fear to limit my vision or grasp of what is possible. I don’t personally subscribe to pure destiny or to life being a series of random chaotic events either. What I do know is that prosaically enough, there can be no high without a low and that every setback offers us an opportunity to learn, grow, and deepen our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.
It’s funny but the idea for this blog came to me over many months as I worked away alone prepping and painting the many walls at the old school. At times my work space felt like chaos and I literally became entangled in power leads, paint pots and all the various other tools needed. At other times, I found myself in clear states of flow where everything came neatly to hand and the work almost completed itself without resistance or entanglement.
At the core of this ebb and flow is the idea of entanglement. It’s not just some quantum physics jargon; it’s a reminder that everything’s connected. Our actions, thoughts, and emotions aren’t isolated events and we are active participants, part of a complex network of relationships and energies, and everything we do shapes the overall pattern.
So, becoming aware of these larger patterns governing our lives, what do we do about them? Quite simply we should embrace them living fully, recognizing that entanglement is both an opportunity and invitation to become creators in this ongoing process. And time, implacable in its nature is not an enemy to be feared or resisted; it’s a partner in our journey.
There’s no final destination here, no event horizon. Think more of yourself engaged in an intuitive dance with time moving in sync with its rhythms, recognizing yourself as both creator and creation in an endless unfolding.
