The illusion of time | The echoes

There is no theme that has been more researched and scrutinized than the times. And the greatest thinkers, whether philosophers, religious, or scientists, in all civilizations, have struggled to understand what this concept could be, whose reality is intuitively obvious, but which escapes any theoretical definition.

Is it a material reality? An invention of the mind? Does it have a beginning? If it does not, then how can we think of an infinite time in the past? And if there is, what existed before the beginning of time, and who decided its beginning? Is it reversible? Irreversible? Is time measured by aging or is it foreign to it? How do you explain that the present moment is immediately replaced by another present moment? What is in the time after death?

All philosophical thoughts have been broken on these questions. All religions have tried in vain to give an answer. To this day, science still fumbles: after considering it as a material reality, then as a universal abstraction, then as a relative concept, because there would exist as many times as observers, science today stumbles upon the relationship between space-time of quantum physics and the general theory of relativity; some have thought that they have found an elegant way of uniting them, by adding other dimensions, through string theory, which remains unsatisfactory and which today is becoming obsolete.

The fear of death

In the prosaic reality of our lives, the complexity of time is just as great: there is a universal time that puts an end to the great geological, biological, and climatic developments.

There is political time, which belongs to those who have power, religious, political or commercial power, which is revealed by the highest position of the clock, on the church tower, the facade of the town hall or the station entrance.

There is economic time, which is imposed by the clock at the factory, and by the accounts of working hours as a measure of the value of things and the exploitation of the workers.

If we want to get out of this suicide sledge, we must at all costs rediscover the value of common time, free from any commercial activity and any totalitarian constraint.

There is personal time that remains preoccupied with the fear of death that everyone delivers in their own way: by praying, by reading, by working, by consuming, by writing, by learning, by loving, by playing . This personal time is now cut up into shorter and shorter moments; in hours, then in minutes, then in seconds and then in milliseconds. As if we should get rewards as often as possible, in the form of purchases, clicks or likes, all of which translate into increasingly consistent market values.

For ubiquitous capitalism, not a second of our lives should be without consumption.

For politics should not allow a second of our lives to think. And for all this, not a second of our lives should be shared: only loneliness encourages consumption and forbids true reflection.

Suicide slippage

The company is an opportunity for conversation, pleasure, love, negations of market exchange. Capitalism hates the meal, an opportunity to talk and talk bad about it. He loves fast food, social networking, online shopping sites or digital subscriptions. He does not even offer us in return a meditative loneliness.

Just a whirlwind of crowd activity, to make us forget death by tyrannical artificial news and by the accumulation of real or virtual possessions that soothe us by making us believe that we can not die until they have really been consumed . Thus, we destroy the world, nature, climate, humanity by wanting to escape our fear of dying.

If we want to get out of this suicide sledge, we must at all costs rediscover the value of common time, free from any commercial activity and any totalitarian constraint. Time for conversation, music, meals, sports, performing arts, rebellion, self-development.

It is by wondering about the time of the other (especially that which has not yet been born, and which awaits us, on the other side of time) that we will make sense of ours.

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