Moments, Time and Scale

All moments are not equal, and great swaths of time may pass by unnoticed until a sudden, radiant instant adds new meaning. I cannot speak for others, but I have an instinctive notion that the spiritual value of things does not square up with any measurement known to our world. That is to say, things that are physically larger are need not be spiritually so; things that are physically closer need not spiritually so; feelings that are emotionally more intense need not be spiritually so; actions that demand much of our time need not offer much to our spirit, while actions that demand little of our time may offer much indeed.

I was sitting at my desk at work—as I often do, out of habit and necessity—when there came a starling revelation. I enjoy almost every part of my day more than that time spent working at work. For example, sleeping is much better, far more restful. Sadly, I retain few memories from my time spent sleeping, and those memories that I do retain involve too many flying monkeys for me to trust them completely. Yet, between sleeping and working the greatest part of my day is divided. After the mundane and routine necessities of eating and preparing food, washing body, clothes and bathroom, there remains only a thin crust for higher pursuits.

The trip to and from work, cycling along the streets of Winnipeg, is more invigorating than the long hours between the trips. In the morning I leave downtown, and pass through the older neighbourhoods and into the suburbs. The trees shrink in size and finally disappear, cars drive ever faster, green gives way to grey, and it always seems to me a decent into hell. This feeling affects my perception of the hours that await me in the office. The return to the city centre after work is one of the certain joys of my day. Though the roads are flat, it seems like an ascent—not into paradise, but at least to an earth full of purpose.

Then, there are times of communion with other people. It is with family around the table, with great minds through books, or with friends in an apartment, restaurant, or a bar. Beyond this, the greatest times I have known were spent creating or helping others. On rare occasions, greater still, are moments where I am doing nothing at all, except walking, thinking, looking, or listening, and long stretches of time seem to come together and resonate. This is when I am reminded again, I am a bell, and had almost forgotten for it had been so long since I was last lifted and struck.

Occasionally I read articles about the newest ideas in physics, which are unintelligible but fascinating. Some scientists, if it can still be called a science, believe that there are many universes beyond our own. Personally, I find the idea repulsive. The universe is already far too big, and my mind refuses the idea that all of that is one among many. After looking at the sky mapped out on Google Earth, I got an impression of just how many worlds we can see between each of the commonly visible stars. Perhaps we are highly irrational, but we give our planet more importance in our minds and hearts than its size and position would seem to dictate. Perhaps it is we humans who have defined spiritual value for ourselves, in which case our self-centered approach is understandable and pragmatic.

As with great spaces, so with long stretches of time. I would hesitate to predict how long it would take to tell the story of the entire planet to an alien race. If pressed, I would say between ten to fifteen minutes. Mercifully, we do not need to be concerned with this any more than we are concerned about our irrelevance upon the Andromeda galaxy. We are in the business of living our lives; we are here and it is now. Therefore, it makes sense to take the pragmatic approach: to accept that we are the ones who have decided, and still decide, where meaning and purpose lie.

This is not to say that spiritual richness is whatever we want it to be. We could ascribe great value to money and power, and people certainly do. However, the definitions that have stood the test of time are more ambitious, calling us to seek out that which is good but also within our reach here and now. This is why we still need God, because he is bigger than the universe in a different way than the physicist’s world of many worlds is bigger. We need him to be greater, but also within our reach. Most of the world’s religions give us something to that effect, not always God, but something both transcendent and immanent.

Only the rejection of that wisdom has led us off the track in the last few years. We have learned fascinating new truths about the scale of our world over space and time. With better scientific understanding of our insignificant place in celestial geography and history, we have carried these insights too far beyond the proper reach of science. Now we are saying that those times and distances really matter! Even though we know in our hearts that 1969 was more important than any one year plucked from the Precambrian period. Even though we know in our hearts that 70 kg of human being has a greater purpose than 70 kg of limestone. Do we not see that accepting a reality beyond the time and distance we can observe is both wise and pragmatic? While religious beliefs may often be irrational, some form of religion is surely our only means of holding on to any reason at all.