We Are Travellers in Time, Not Time Itself
Time does not travel. It does not rush past us, nor does it drag behind. Time is a vast, silent dimension—an ever-present stage on which the play of existence unfolds. What moves is not time, but we ourselves. Each breath we take, each step we walk, each thought we think is a movement through this dimension. We are the travellers, passing through moments as though walking in a gallery lined with infinite frames.
Imagine a grand exhibition where every incident—joy, sorrow, triumph, loss—is captured and placed in sequence, frame by frame. As we walk, we view one scene after another. We call this movement “the present.” The frames we have already passed, we call “the past.” The frames waiting ahead, unseen yet arranged, we call “the future.” But the gallery itself, the corridor of time, remains still and unmoved. It does not bend itself toward us; we move across it, and in doing so, create the illusion of time’s flow.
This perspective changes how we understand life. If we see ourselves as travellers, not victims of time’s current, we gain a sense of agency. We realize we are not being swept helplessly by a river, but are consciously walking through a gallery, able to pause, reflect, or even choose how we interpret each frame. The past is not lost; it is simply a section of the gallery we have already walked through. The future is not rushing toward us; it is simply waiting for us to arrive.
In this way, living is less about racing against time and more about journeying through it. Every moment is an artwork to be observed, understood, and cherished before moving on to the next. Life, then, is not a battle with time, but a pilgrimage within it.
Srinivas kesiraju
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