Life

    Kairos Time

    Impression Sunrise by Claude Monet | Obelisk Art History
    Impression, Sunrise, Claude Monet, 1872. 

    It was only recently that I fully cognized what a sunrise entailed. The sun’s fingers slipped through my window, dappling my wall with dim light. At their sight, I felt an odd sensation of sorrow. Were not these the same rays that had woken me every morning for what felt like centuries? My mind stretched back in a tangled reverie to the mornings composing my life thus far. Mornings that had ushered in grief and joy. Captive in this continuity of sunrises, a feeling of loss entangled me. I could no longer touch yesterday

    As I depart from another school year, I have been meditating on the nature of time. The critical moments I have experienced are now memories. Concerns, fears, and anticipations — fragments that felt real and eternal at one point in time — are now confined to the borders of my diary. I feel, at times, like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations. I feel filled with an inexplicable wish to remain seated in a place forever, as if my physical immobility could effectuate a change in my surroundings. I feel like locking myself in a room with a frozen clock. The movement of my life through time seems to outpace my desire to move. 

    But what exactly is time

    There are, in essence, two forms of time: Chronos and KairosChronos time is the measurable, quantitative time that comes to mind when one first thinks of “time.” It is chronological, the breath of clocks and calendars, journal entries and birthdays. It consists of the human attempt to explain and contain time. Kairos time, on the other hand, is a form that cannot be calculated.

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