In a recent blog on NPR (“Where is Now? The Paradox of the Present”) astronomer Adam Frank tossed out a fascinating idea: there is a lot of ambiguity in the definition of the so-called “now.” Many people have spoken of the now, in contexts from religion to philosophy to science to New Age notions—as though it is a well-defined and precise thing. It is often defined as “the present moment,” referring to the instant between the past and the future.
Frank points out, however, that the present moment is really a rather fuzzy and enigmatic concept. He gives the simple example of what we're seeing when we gaze at the night sky and observe the stars. We can't perceive them in their present moment at all, but how they existed in the past. The light I'm now seeing from that star that's 100 light years away (about 600 trillion miles!) departed 100 years ago. What I'm seeing at my present moment is the star's present moment as it appeared 100 years in the past. It's history. It's antiquity... not the now. The star could have blown up five minutes ago and I won't know it for another 100 years. (Actually, I will never know it, since I'll also be history by then.)
In fact, at the present moment that I'm watching all those stars at various distances, I'm seeing them at various times in the past! So my starry “now” is really composed of countless overlapping starry pasts. I am unable to observe any one of those stars in its present moment, but only as it existed long before now (my now, that is). Some being living on a planet several light years away experiences a completely different set of starry nows. As Frank writes, “Where is now?” Whew!
He goes on to describe how this situation of overlapping pasts is true for any sensation logged by our brain. Each sensation begins with an organ of one or another of our senses—sight, touch, sound, smell, taste—and then travels via nerve pathways to the brain. Depending on the type of signal, its speed is somewhere between one and 200 miles per hour. That's pretty fast, but it's not instantly.
So our present moment is, just like starlight, an aggregation of multiple past events. Our “now” is a collection of old “nows.” We live in the past. Furthermore, the time differences for different observers of everyday events may be on the order of microseconds—rather than years—but it still is true that your present-moment perceptions are not the same as mine. Your now is not my now—you have your own collection of outdated nows.
That fact is a wee bit mind blowing, it seems to me. It causes me to ponder the various ways I have heard people refer to the present moment—particularly when it's implied that there is one unique now that we all share; as if it's the same now everywhere; as if the dividing line between the past and the future is something we all simultaneously experience; as if we all cross the demarcation line that marks the present moment in unison, collectively stepping from the past into the future. But no, your past could be my future, or vice versa. If that doesn't blow my mind, then it surely overwhelms it with paradoxical and perplexing images. As Frank asks, “Where is now?” I don't know, it's already gone.
But there's another, maybe more serious, message that this conundrum brought to me, after I mused over it for awhile—a message that's not nearly so enigmatic to me. If my now is really an overlay of multiple pasts, then my present moment is already over and done with. I can't change it; it's a done deal. I might as well not fight it, but accept it. It is what it is. Why get upset and get into a fuss over my lack of approval of it?
Now, that message may seem like a fatalistic one to some folks, as if I'm saying,
“It's too late. I can't do anything about it. It's fate.” With this interpretation one can become passive and powerless. The message I take, however, is that the only now I can perceive is my own now, and although it may already be locked into the past, my response to it is the crucial thing. How I respond to my now has a major influence on my future, since what I do now directly impacts my future.
And that response is directly determined primarily by how well I'm paying attention... right “now.” If I allow myself to be drawn into the past, or find myself leaning into the future, or have my attention diverted by distractions, I don't even get a clear picture of my now. It's muddied by diversions, or the fixed past or possible future events. My daydreaming can cause me to miss the reality of my now, and my subsequent actions may therefore be foolish. They'd more likely to be influenced by my inattentiveness, rather than reality.
So, pay attention. Act wisely. Enjoy the moment, because, in fact, it's already past. Soon you will be yesterday. Now... you got that?
Saturday, August 27, 2011
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