Pandemic time perceptions
Yes, those are my feet up there.
“How did it get so late so soon?” Dr. Seuss
Pandemic Time.
“The pandemic has impacted our perception of time,” I tell Sue.
“I know,” she replies as we stare at the clock in my oncologist’s office.
The second hand remains frozen for 5 seconds and then flies ahead.
“That’s exactly how time feels during the pandemic!” Sue exclaims.
“Time is suspended and accelerated. Every day is Groundhog Day and then suddenly it’s Friday and another week of the pandemic has vanished,” she says.
“And as we age, the years just flow by like a broken down dam,” I reply to my angel from Montgomery.
In 1890, American psychologist William James proposed in Principles of Pyschology that time appears to accelerate as we age because we are living fewer and fewer memorable events.
We tend to remember our firsts. Our first love, first kiss (Aunt Shirley doesn’t count), first heartbreak, first makeup sex…. These kinds of memories are pretty well locked into our long-term memory.
Let’s face it though, odds are we aren’t experiencing many “firsts” by the time we hit middle age… it can be a whole lotta’ been there and done that.
Supporting James’ theory, more recent research has illuminated the link between adrenaline and memory. Put simply, the adrenaline released when we experience heightened emotions activates the memory receptors in the brain. We tend to remember our intense events – be they positive or negative.
Prague Astronomical Clock
When I was young, summer seemed to last forever. I could look at the calendar in late July and be delightfully relieved to count the 38 days remaining until school – a veritable eternity to the virgin territory of my memory banks.
Nowadays, I look at Sue in stunned disbelief as I write a cheque and ask her how it suddenly became 2020 when I don’t remember a single thing about 2019.
When you don’t remember much about your day, your week or your season – it’s no wonder the time seems to have flown by. Our life experience and our predictable routines can make our mortal destinies feel terrifyingly imminent.
In the face of this slipperiness of time we are, however, free to shake things up a bit! A line from a Baz Luhrmann song, Wear Sunscreen, “Do something everyday that scares you”, inspires me. (He actually borrowed it from columnist Mary Schmich.)
To help illustrate, each July we have a family gathering at my Uncle Richard’s cottage in Algonquin Park - a definite highlight of the season. At the end of the bay, a short swim from the dock is a railway bridge – now used for a bike path.
Uncle Richard - (with his gas contractor)
The distance from the top of the bridge’s massive iron guardrail down to the water must be a good 20 feet. Young people (what’s with those exotic tattoos and piercings anyways?) can be seen doing acrobatic flips before the sharp slap of skin on water echoes across Whitefish Lake.
A number of years ago youngest son Louis challenged me to make the jump. I thought of many valid reasons not to do so. But, after considerable cajoling – and his citing of that line from Wear Sunscreen, I did it.
I can’t say that it’s really much fun – but as the rings run out of my mortal coil – I feel the need to live each one to the fullest - so I make of point of doing it again every year.
The pandemic forced the cancellation of this year’s Algonquin congregation. God willing, between the waves, treatments, and vaccines, we will be able gather next year (why does it feel so far away?).
And that’s the boon I see in this pandemic. We will appreciate the bonds of family and friendship as we never have before.
Being deprived of our essential connections is a trauma that - once we survive it - should provide a lasting blessing.
The time we spend together will be cherished and never again wished away because - in the end - all we have is the eternal present moment before us.
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