The Illusion of Time

I've been inspired this evening to write about my thoughts on time and the illusion it often gives us. That illusion, of course, is that we have a linear past, present and future. What and who inspired me this evening was not intentional, but they've yet again brought me several revelations about myself, themselves, our spiritual connection, and validation of some of the Universe's intangible mysteries. It's amazing how a few words that the almost fifteen year old heard eighteen years ago, but the thirty-three year old doesn't recall can accidently be rediscovered with a whole new meaning, while providing additional proof to a twenty year old gut feeling that has never gone away. It is wonderful how a few words can reveal that there really is no distinction between what was, what is, and what has yet to be.

I know that many of us question how we instinctively like someone, perhaps even love someone, when we've only known them for a few moments or even when we only know of their existence, but have yet to meet face to face. Sometimes we question that sudden feeling of familiarity and recognition we get in the present moment that we're not quite sure we can explain. We can question our pull towards someone for years and then suddenly realize that the knowledge that we shared with them in what we think of as today was actually used by them in what we think was the past. Or perhaps it was shown to us in what we thought was the past as a guide to a piece of who we would become. Karmic soulmates, I like to think, have that kind of connection, that kind of relationship with each other. Although, I'm no longer just thinking, I'm beginning to see that.

When we look back on something or someone who influenced us, as I did for a moment this evening, we can see that what we've needed to know was already there. Tonight there is no distinction between 1992 and 2010. Tonight there is little, if any, distinction between reality and illusion. Tonight the almost fifteen year old shows her thirty-three year old self that the revelation of who she is was returned to her through that spiritual connection a long time ago. Tonight she begins to wonder who is the illusion and who is the reality and perhaps whether or not herself and the other person in question are not a little bit of both.

I suppose souls who have known each other through other lifetimes will always question that distinction in their present incarnations. Or perhaps the future self speaks through its past manifestation in ways that can't be seen, heard or explained. Perhaps we always are who we become, blindly revealing the pieces only when they are needed by others. It's only when we think we are looking back in reflection do we fully get to realize the purpose of those pieces. Only when we look back in reflection do they begin to fit together until we are finally ready to have the entire picture revealed to us.

Four words that didn't have much meaning in what I thought was 1992 have more than struck me in what I think is 2010. But they exist simultaneously. "That means you're sensitive" shouldn't have been used in the context of describing someone's ability to pick up on the unspoken in 1992. The research on high sensitivity hadn't been formally organized yet. The words "sensitivity" and "sensitive" hadn't been coined yet as the mainstream description for those like us. Those who can sense the unspoken, among many other things. But, tonight there it is, embedded in an eighteen year old illusion. Perhaps part of the script. Perhaps an ad-lib. That last detail, of course, doesn't matter.

What matters is the question of what exactly time is. Is it merely an illusion designed to slowly unravel, that only our physical shells experience and endure? Does it have a purpose in presenting itself as linear? Is time a barrier that our minds cross while dreaming or while conscious in the non-physical realm? Questions I'd love to have the answers to. But of course, that would mean the entire picture might get revealed before I'm ready. Tonight those details don't matter, because I have another piece to a puzzle I've been trying to solve for twenty years.

Tonight I can't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes and my heart from smiling in recognition at a gift that has come full circle. A gift that never really had a distinction between who was sending and who was receiving.