Horismus (hor-is’-mus): Providing a clear, brief definition, especially by explaining differences between associated terms.
“Time: Passes. Not eternal or forever. Measure of temporal insistence and increments, past, present and future.” This was my definition of time. It is part Mr. Rogers and part Dr. Einstein—two of my childhood heros.
Ever since I was a little boy, I was fascinated by time. My least favorite time was “time out” when my mother made me sit in the cat’s bed, often for 30 minutes. Now that I’m grown up and two days away from serving out my 9 years in prison for armed robbery, time has taken on a whole new meaning. “Doing Time” is an interesting concept. It reminds me of “making time” with my girlfriend, so long ago. Doing time and making time are polar opposites of the net that time throws over our lives. As I get close to my release date tomorrow, I feel like time is on my side, as I take a stitch in time putting my jump suit in good order—they misplaced my clothes so I’ll have to wear my jump suit when I’m released.
Time consciousness is always on duty except when we pass out, go into a coma, or go to sleep; where we may have dreams that trick us into thinking time is present. For me, every once in a while, in dreams, I am a horse winning a race, or a chef boiling an egg, or a sack racer hopping over the finish line in third place. But, this is all an illusion, like time might actually exist. Yes! A ticking illusion, like an empty time bomb: fake, no boom.
What absolute proof do we have of time’s existence? Chronological instruments, like stopwatches, wall clocks, stopwatches, sundials, and bedside alarm clocks have increments on their faces that are traversed by what are called “hands,” ticking, humming, and in the case of sundials, coursing with the apparent movement of the sun. We have longer and shorter days and nights that are actually useless measures of the sun’s daily disappearance and return. The same goes for seasons—we actually feel them on our skin! Isn’t that enough? Yes! Summer, Winter, Fall, Spring! Call them “times of the year,” but they are actually SEASONS, not times. It is a disgraceful mischaracterization of the natural order of things. Wake up clock heads of the world!
The only reason we need time is because our overseers impose it on us. Time is money! Not our money, but their money.
But, then it happened! I’m out. I’m on the street. I completed my prison sentence. I did my time.
After succumbing to the angst my anti-time stance has caused while I was in prison, I’ve decided to give up my “chrono-rebellion.” Upon being released, I realized all this anti-time sentiment comes from my inability to be on time. It’s what got me caught robbing the Dairy Queen. I dawdled in the getaway car listening to ELO in the parking lot across the street. By the time I arrived for the robbery, my partners had started it and the police were already there. The Dairy Queen guy had called them. The cops took one look at me wearing a balaclava and arrested me. I was late to my trial. I was convicted. Off to prison I went.
No matter how hard I’ve tried, I’m always five-ten minutes late. But, now that’s going to change. I’ve become a chronophile after listening to the podcast “Time is Sublime.” It is hosted for a subscription fee by Brother Time. He shakes an hour-glass like it is maracas, making a “chugs-chuga” that sounds like a clock ticking that he accompanies with time-oriented chants. My favorite is “Tick-Tock You Are A Rock.”
I have purchased one of those military-grade watches for $12.00 advertised on Facebook. I’ve also started drinking 6 cups of coffee in the morning. Taken together, the watch and the coffee have gotten me down to an average of three minutes early!
For me, this is like amazing grace—“How sweet the sound” of my kitchen clock ticking on the wall.
I have gotten a job at “Wheelers Jewelry” replacing watch batteries. Brother Time has aligned me with “The Big Mainspring.” Now I know that time is not “a thief.” Time is a ticking Santa Claus shouldering a sack full of possibilities.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
Daily Trope is available in an early edition on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 