The Grey Man
τὸ φῶς ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ φαίνει
over and above the fortuitous synthesis of sense-data that we call the present. The past and the future are not extensions of 'myself' in two 'imaginary' space-like directions like the indefinite twofold extension of a Euclidean line, but interpolations of the present that the analytical, rational mind uses in abstracto to construct a linear narrative of the life of some atomic 'person,' with bifurcations to represent practical contingencies. Notwithstanding such 'block time' narratives, time is not linear, nor even spatial at all. Time is the eternal recreation of the present, the immortal spectacle of mortality. We all say "now," and we are always right, whether we said it in the 20th century or the 21st, the third millennium of our era or the third before Christ. Where, then, or when, is the present? Is there one, true present at all? and, if no, how can there be one, true 'I?'
Wherever "I" is said, there I am; wherever "now" is said, so it is.
Wherever "I" is said, there I am; wherever "now" is said, so it is.