Lately, I’ve been thinking about the time that quietly passes through our days.
What is time, anyway?
In Japanese, the word for time is written as 時間 — literally, “the space between moments.”
We often say that time flows.
But when I really think about it, that sounds a little strange.
It makes me imagine time flowing around us like a river.
We stand still, while time moves past us.
But maybe it’s actually the other way around.
Maybe we are the ones flowing through time.
Hmm…
Even that doesn’t quite feel right.
So what is it?
The Earth turns.
I wake up in the morning and make a cup of coffee.
Steam rises from the cup.
I hurry so I won’t be late for school or work.
I get hungry.
The wind blows.
Rain falls.
Sometimes it keeps falling.
I wait for the bus.
I wait for someone I love.
I fall in love.
A flower blooms through the asphalt.
And eventually,
I fall asleep.
All of these things are movements.
Our movements.
The movement of the Earth.
The movement of steam.
The movement of people.
The movement of flowers, rain, wind, and love.
Maybe these movements themselves are what time is.
Maybe time doesn’t exist somewhere outside of us, flowing like a river.
Maybe time exists within us.
Maybe we are each a kind of clock—
not a clock that measures time,
but something that gives time a form.
An hourglass is a device for showing time.
Perhaps we are, too.
Human clocks.
Five minutes in a busy morning can feel so short.
Five minutes sitting around a table with family at night can feel completely different.
Five minutes in the middle of a game can feel endless.
Five minutes staring out at the ocean can disappear before you even notice.
They are all exactly five minutes.
And yet,
they don’t feel the same at all.
Does time actually stretch and shrink depending on how we experience it?
Maybe.
If we ourselves are part of time,
perhaps we can stretch it.
Or make it feel smaller.
Not intentionally.
Not mechanically.
But simply through the way we live.
And still,
there is one thing we cannot do.
We cannot rewind.
No matter how much we wish we could,
time only moves in one direction.
And perhaps that is what makes it precious.
We are time,
moving forward.
But there is something else we can do.
We cannot rewind time, but we can always begin again.
A day has 24 hours.
A year has 365 days.
We live in a digital world now, surrounded by numbers that tell us what time it is.
The time on our phones.
The time on our watches.
The time displayed on screens everywhere we go.
We are constantly being reminded of where we are in time.
But sometimes,
I wonder if it might be nice to forget about it.
Just for a while.
Leave the phone behind.
Take off the watch.
Forget the numbers.
And try to feel time—
not from a clock,
but from the space around you.
From your own body.
From your own life.
From the way the world moves.
Maybe time is not something outside of us.
Maybe,
in some strange way,
we are time.
And if that is true,
then perhaps my own time has no real limit.
Not the kind of limit a clock can measure.
There is only this moment,
and the moments that follow it.
So…
what time is it now?
…
2:00 a.m.
Oh.
It’s already this late.
I suppose I should go to sleep.
Funny.
After thinking about time for so long,
I’m still checking the clock.
Good night.
And tomorrow,
perhaps I’ll try to forget about time again.