Time as a Process

It’s a great time-killer

I’ve heard the phrase time-killer a lot. I have used it myself.

Often it seems to be used to mean something good. Something fun to do while maybe something not so fun is going on. But the last time I read it, in the context of a positive review for a video game, I had a visceral reaction of horror to it.

Time dies quite expediently on its own without needing any help from us.

I started thinking about how we use the word Time and different prepositions associated with it, such as:

On time (but not usually off time, at least not as an opposite)
Overtime (but not usually undertime)
In time, just in time (but not usually out time or just out time)
Nick of time (but not usually of time by itself)
out of time (but not usually in of time)
down time  (but not usually up time)

Think about what the meanings of the prepositions are and what that seems to imply about our conceptualization of time. Often it appears to be something separate from us, acting on its own accord, waiting for us to make use of it. Or, perhaps more telling, like this

Filling time (but not so much emptying time)

which seems to view time as a container…

But I wonder if our current models, such as time as an arrow, stream, container, dimension, and so on are all flawed by their assumed external characteristic of time. Even when relativity and personal time is mentioned as being locked onto the person, the subjective, time is often referenced as “slowing down” or “passing more quickly” depending on the perspective.

I’m thinking time might be better viewed in process terms. Consider this:

You turn over an hourglass and the sand starts running out. You have until the sand is depleted to live your life. The sand sometimes falls with greater ease and greater abundance. Other times it gets clogged or bottlenecked, trickling into the waiting bottom.

Our old model might say when  it is finished that it look “longer” than the  expected hour or maybe it emptied “sooner.” But that is vacuous wordplay from a life perspective.

The hourglass doesn’t take 65 minutes, 55 minutes, or One Perfect Hour to empty. It doesn’t take 5 years or 5 seconds. For what measuring device would you use to state such a thing, without that device itself needing another device  for confirmation, ad nauseum?

Instead, the amount of time it takes is nothing other than the process of sand running out having completed. There is no need for additional description of time expenditure and in fact such a model rejects such forced additions as being meaningless.

We never die of old age. What we die of is processes ending.

A 70-year-old man, for example, didn’t die because he turned 70. But he might have had a heart attack and his heart beat number 2,859,401,002 was his last. The beating heart process stopped. So it goes with other life-critical biological functions.

If my thoughts are correct here, then temporal-impacting thoughts necessarily shift from the weirdness of time “slowing down”  or “stopping”  to something far less abstract: did your heart beat or not?

And how many beats do you have before your process is complete.