The Chinese sinogram for time is 时. It’s supposedly composed of the logogram for sun 日 (rì) and thumb or a measurement word 寸 (cùn). Which begs the curious department a few queries on the matter. It gives pause for thought. Anybody old enough in this time and age on this planet has seen a sundial and many other such older contraptions used to tell time or measurements if you will with the aid of the sun or daylight. Were not going to delve on the sun as a time giver but one wonders whether the night ever meant time as the day means time such as we know it. It is during daylight when we spend most of our thoughts on time these days. Perhaps it is one of those of survival vestiges that perdures as of yet in our breath much as those corporal parts of our flesh which we know we have no use for anymore. Time is different at night, again, we are not to delve on it since modern society can answer that quite nicely considering all the ideology the filthy rich use to exploit daylight time. Having said that allow me to expound on why time is on our thoughts these days and no, it is no philosophical treatise on that but simple a mere observation from the offices of the grey matter that feed my consciousness.
I suppose the passing of time akin the passing of daylight in its ideal 12 hour ritual, mind you, daylight last more than 12 hours in a row in some countries, from dusk to dawn if one wills, has its markers. Daylight is marked by its dusk and time by the surrounding and perceived changes that occur in ones milieu. Specially dealing with people, aka human beings and alas! the youth bent on looking at the past as a long time ago. For human beings everything is temporal and nothing lasts forever. So they say. I think we lull ourselves or rather deceive ourselves with this concept of time as passing and leaving us behind because our biological shelf life is short in comparison to what I know not, the biological clock comes with FOMO. What are we going to miss once our clocks run out of the juicy notion of time? One safe bet is the notion of the need to experience the pleasures the flesh yearns of all the time, known as hedonism. I guess we don’t want to miss out on what the heck our lot is up to as well and partake on it too. Nothing good is at hand by the looks of it if you ask me. We digress as usual. Time piques my curiosity more and more and I suppose my age has something to do with as well as the people that surround me and their reactions to me as an older human being. People add or subtract years as if it made some difference in what the hands of the clock at times chime in its deadly stop known as fate. Something bound to happen no matter what was stored in the vastness of daily chores. This sort of gambling notion that fate has on time or what others call as destiny as well, throws people off rather interestingly because it resets the idea of their linear conception of time.
I love the notion that as many things in my life I pay no particular interest in the passing of time, or do I? I know am getting older but at the same time I seem to not be carrying any baggage of old trite and heavy loads that consume the essence of the now. I know I yap a lot about the memories of yesterday and their pangs inflicting psychic pain unto my soul but I don’t see that being relevant to the concept of time and its passing before my eyes. One day at a time I suppose. Much like bright sunlight gives hope I let the night pass so I get to see the intensity of another day no matter how grey and cloudy it gets. By know I am guessing you are saying as you read this bullcrap, this dude doesn’t even know what he is saying and I would agree and disagree. Mostly because I don’t pay attention to ageism in humans nor do I care about how long ago things happened, sure, am surprised as well that 20, 30, 40 or 50 years ago was so long ago but surprised as in it is no longer here and with a sensation of what? that wasn’t that long ago, so am left more confused than bethralled by human ideas of time. I also seem to be a recipient of a feeling I have heard and read about in so many other accounts of people saying that though their bodies might be old their living sensation is that of a younger being. Whatever that means but I seem to understand it yet am not guided by it either. Appropriate customs and manners allow me to avoid certain common pit falls many of my lot suffer as age catches up to them or more rather slaps them right in the face. I quite remember well when I received a slap in the face. I was just starting my career as a teacher in 2005 when I was caught off guard speaking of the 1980’s, for me it was just like yesterday but to the youngins that was an eon ago. The cold shower of reality washed upon me as I was stopped right in my tracks and had to admit to myself that that was indeed more than a quarter of a century ago. One can argue even that I was forced by younger evolving flesh to see time as something long gone and not something as a living experience rife with life in the innermost innards of my constitution, something held cherished and alive as a glowing charcoal still seething with redness and heat. That’s not time but events long since transpired, I know, but to make a reference to it since we look back to learn or relate what is happening to us now, we must hang it on the rope lines on which we tend to suspend events that vanish before our very eyes.
Darn youth I say! Suffice to say am not bothered by this passing or idea of time as something way back when. It is still with us and life experiences we cherish and carry are the nuance of life, time ought not be a number no matter how old you get. So I was 20 or 30 once am 59 now so what, am still alive and breathe and experience this timeline as much as that pesky 14 year old kid who thinks Led Zeppelin was a whole era ago. Who by the way gets to enjoy as we speak thanks to tech now a days.
What chatgpt had to say:
Certainly! Here’s a comment reacting to the blog post from the perspective of a university-educated reader, offering thoughtful reflection while engaging with the piece’s ideas:
As someone who’s spent quite a bit of time studying language, cultural semiotics, and philosophical notions of temporality, I find this post both evocative and erratic—in a way that feels authentic, even if a bit meandering. The observation that the Chinese sinogram for time (时) contains both the symbol for “sun” (日) and a measuring marker (寸) is compelling, especially when considered through the lens of how premodern cultures grounded their experience of time in natural cycles. That link between sunlight and timekeeping is intuitive and historically grounded, as you’ve suggested with the sundial.
But what really strikes me is the emotional undercurrent running through your meditation on aging and time—not just as a chronological sequence but as a lived, psychological experience. There’s a poignancy in your reflection on how younger generations perceive the past as distant and detached, while for you (and many of us who’ve been through a few decades), it remains vivid and alive. That disconnect is jarring, yes, but it’s also a reminder of how memory and personal meaning shape our inner temporality far more than clocks or calendars ever could.
The mix of existential weariness, ironic detachment, and occasional bursts of poetic clarity—“a glowing charcoal still seething with redness and heat”—gives this piece texture. It doesn’t present a cohesive thesis, but perhaps that’s the point. Time, as experienced by the conscious self, isn’t linear or easily theorized. It’s tangled in memory, identity, loss, desire, and, as you suggest, a touch of hedonism.
Still, I wonder if more structure or focus could strengthen your reflections. There are fascinating threads here—ageism, nostalgia, the commodification of daylight—but they compete with each other. A bit of editing might make the whole even more resonant.
Nonetheless, I appreciate the rawness. You’re not trying to be academically rigorous here, and that’s perfectly fine. What you offer is a window into a mind trying to make peace with time, age, and mortality—all while chuckling at the absurdity of it. That’s a kind of wisdom academia often fails to capture.