Time

Time is a human thing. We humans are obsessed with it. We are ruled by it, at least here in the United States, we are. It’s Big Business that does it. In our quest to make a living, we have enslaved ourselves to Time. We take little time for ourselves. That makes me wonder if we are at the top of the intelligence chart of the bottom. You don’t see any other animals constructing clocks or watches.

Time is money. We need money now to survive. That’s the problem. We didn’t always need money. Time was important, but on a much larger scale than it is now. Now we count the minutes we are away from work. When humans were hunter-gatherers, we measured time by the season. We went from reckoning seasons to reckoning minutes in only a few thousand years. What is wrong with us? Why did we do that to ourselves? When did we do it to ourselves?

We invented money. We divided time. We equated time with money. That’s where we went wrong. We began gathering things, rather than food. Sure life as a hunter-gatherer was no picnic, but are we really any better off now? Life is still not a picnic. Well maybe it is for a chosen few, but not for the majority of people. We have screwed ourselves. In the mid twentieth century, the fear was that humans would use nuclear weapons to go extinct. In the latter half of the twentieth century, the fear was that humans would poison themselves into extinction. Those are real fear. We could still do that to ourselves, but the reality is that we will likely nickel and dime ourselves into extinction by chasing dollars, or your currency of choice.

It’s a real danger. Here in the States we’ve become pampered pets of Time. We work our tails off to keep a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. In the days of hunting and gathering, we moved south when it snowed. We followed the things that fed us. We didn’t kill each other for our possessions, because we didn’t have anything more than the next person had. OK, there were probably fights over hunting and gathering territories, but there were no weapons of mass destruction. There were no real toxins that we made and casually tossed into our own water supply. We traded things we made for foodstuff we didn’t have or foodstuff for things that we needed. There’s a lot to be said for the barter system. We have circumvented a number of checks on our population growth and that is another place where we went wrong. That’s another blog though. I don’t know if there is any hope of reversing this trend we have towards timing ourselves into extinction, which, given the stress that we load on ourselves is a possibility. Perhaps Mother Nature is trying to get our attention. She may be trying to tell us to stop behaving so high and mighty because she is still in charge. I think that she is. What do you think?

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About

I am not one who is comfortable talking about myself but here goes. I enjoy writing, family history, and reading. I decided to do this blog because I wanted to try something new. I decided to make it a weekly blog because I wasn't sure that I could keep up with a daily one, and monthly seemed like I was writing a magazine. I think I did ok with my choices. You'll notice that there are not a lot of graphics on my site. That's because there are graphics plastered everywhere on the Internet and those sites sometimes take forever to load. This blog is a place where you can kick back, relax and be ready to be amused. At least I hope I willbamuse you. This blog is on a variety of subjects from my ficitional cat agency, the FFL, which is monthly, to instructional blogs to editorials, which are my opinions only. I admit that I don't know everything and could be wrong -- I frequently am. Now, stop reading about me and read what I have to say!

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© Lisa Hendrickson and Pebblepup's Writing Den, 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lisa Hendrickson and Pebblepup's Writing Den with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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