January 20: "An immobile time not marked on clocks"

- Thought Experiment: Now -

The present. The present is constantly moving, and yet not. The now of this word is different than the now of this period. Seconds have passed. Time has slid forward. Now is ever changing. And yet it isn't. Now is always now.

Look at your watch. Go ahead. Do it. I'll still be here when you get back. Did you check it? What time is it? Read this sentence. Now what time is it? Has the hour changed? The minute? Definitely the second. But it's still now. That sentence in now "then" as this word is the new now.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Seconds pass, but you still consider it now. And maybe you consider now in a larger time. Maybe this whole essay is what you consider now. How do you know when to stop? How do you know when to start? You are always in now, but when did now start?

Is now a second? A few seconds? A minute? A few minutes? Is now a half hour? Is now an hour? Does it depend on the time frame? Over the course of a work day, is now an hour? Over the course of a month is now today? Over the course of a decade is now this year?

Now is always with you. Always where you are. No matter how far it stretches. It never changes. Never moves. You can never escape now, even when reflecting on the past or envisioning the future. Yet, who could time now? How do you clock it?

**A/N: Honestly, I had no clue where to go with this. Such beautiful language, but also so abstract. I don't do well with abstract. After a couple days of pondering and getting nowhere, I just did what I was taught: trust the pen. I just filled the page and called it done. I guess you can figure out roughly how large I write if the above 250 words filled a journal page, but it was better than another day of writing nothing.**