Time time time

8(ish) hours at work, 4 hours on my bike, 5 hours with Lily, 7 hours of sleep, back at work by 7 the following day. Today is the following day. I'm back at work. The sun just came up, it's peaking through the top level window blinds in my basement lab/office. I'm drinking my third jar (I drink my beverages from an old mason jar at work) of Maté this morning.

How sustainable is this? Why do I do it? Every week that goes by seems to go by faster. I crave the moments that slow this process down; moments that make time crawl. Pain slows time; happiness slows time; moments of cathartic emotional, body-disconnectedness, out of mind experiences pulling me closer to the event horizon of my consciousness - then back again.

I first noticed the nexus of emotional states and perception of time in a sweat lodge backpacking six years ago. I've done a my share of sweats and this one was particularly hot - hot enough to push the 12 other people out for air and relief from the neck burning steam coming from the center of the willow branch dome covered in sleeping bags, mats, and tarps. Me and one other, named Shane.

He took the nalgene of water we used to stoke the heat of the lodge and poured it over the rocks, creating a suffocating steam which I was certain was blistering the back of my neck. In agony I motioned to leave the lodge. Shane noticed and said six words that changed my life, "The heat will tell you something."

Really? I wondered.

Curiosity more than anything told me to stay. I sat. It was 30 minutes long. The time it takes me to ride 10 miles; twice the time it takes me to write this blog entry; four times the amount of time it takes me to make my breakfast; eight times the amount of time it takes me to brush my teeth. If time were distance it would be 16 times the distance squared of my desk to the south facing wall in my lab in feet.

It's a number. The discrete way in which we've come to understand our world. None of it is real. The numbers in your checking account; the numbers on your watch; the numbers defining the words in a binary language created so you can read this blog. It's a measurement that doesn't really exist; without time there would be no measurement, there would be no forward motion of the clock hands and thus a discrete measurement would not take place, not in this dimension anyways.

In my search to find a cyclical continuity to my day, one in which the perverted notion of discrete time plays little to no role I find emotional connection with myself and others. There is no discrete measurement of happy or sad. To escape the constant tick-tock, the nagging 800lb pink gorilla in my pocket (AKA my cell phone), I ride my bike, I find emotional connectivity, I let myself experience pain, happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, the cold and the hot. I experience it because it's real, I experience it because it's telling me something.