By David Malcolm Rose
I suspect that at one time, New Year’s Day aligned with the winter solstice, which made some sense. The solstice is a real thing and not just some date on a man-made calendar. And yet I wax cosmic with the dawn of each new year.
Time may be a man-made construct, but New Year’s Day always seems to impact me like no other day does. I lie in bed on that first morning and ponder. As far as time is concerned, I’ve made it to the here and now, which is as far or farther than anyone alive, anyone who has ever lived. Ozymandias, for all his mighty works, never made it this far. Nor, for that matter, did Ozzy Osbourne.
I marvel at the fact that the water in the glass on my bedside table is over 4 billion years old. There is only a finite amount, and it’s been recycled over and over again since the formation of Earth. My water may have been Aphrodite’s tears, part of the River Styx where Achilles’ mother dipped her infant son, or dinosaur pee.
Time stretches out before us as straight and seemingly endless as railroad tracks in the Texas panhandle. But is time straight or, as Einstein suggested, does it bend like those Texas tracks bend beneath the horizon? If we journeyed far enough into the future, would we reach the past? Beyond all those dystopian sci-fi cities of the future would we see, once again, the reflected light of the Pharos of Alexandria?
There is evidence to suggest that time is a circle. In one short life, I’ve seen tie-dye, flannel shirts, and bluegrass music – spurred by the soundtracks of Bonnie and Clyde, Deliverance, and Brother Where Art Thou – come around three times.
David Rose, of Hot Springs, is an author and artist.
{More of David’s musings can be found at thespringsmagazine.com/category/arts/david-rose/.}
