Category Archives: Observing Changes

Laws of Motion Love Potion #64

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Hey Jude

Hey Jude

Relationships change as people move on through life. It’s a pretty simple truism. If my best friend from high school never moved on we’d both still be lusting for Paul McCartney, skipping school to sneak to the beach, and craving hot fudge sundaes before bed time. Okay, those things might remain constant for half a century (but if  Sir Paul, who is way past 64, was out ‘til quarter to three, I’d lock the door) – but we certainly are not the same bodies or minds that were bonded by young friendships. As we grow older all of our relationships are impacted by Newton’s three laws of motion.

Newton

Newton

Yes, as in Isaac Newton – the guy who figured out that it’s natural for things to resist change and prefer to, keep on keeping on, in the same way and at the same speed. Knock back 50 years to friendships back when, “will you still love me when I’m 64” was a hit –30 was too old and 12 was too young to appreciate the finer things in life. We just kept paddling toward the future, the zeitgeist, the thought that binds each generation, was the promise of a good life – one that would be even better than our parents enjoyed. The future was just a stroke or two before our bow. Life was but a breeze.

Then along came the college graduation requirements, career launch, marriage, kids, and mortgages. Newton’s second law kicked in. As responsibilities became heavier it took more force to move us along with the same people doing the same things we did back in the day. We drifted towards other people and sometimes it seemed to take an awful lot of effort to force ourselves to play with our old friends. Commitments and deadlines shifted our balance away from some friends and towards new friends.

Regardless of one’s age, the Newton’s third law should be respected across relationships. If we force ourselves into somebody else’s social circle, we should expect to be pushed just as hard in the opposite direction. The laws of motion interact, if we’ve always been pushy, until we’re social pariahs, we’re going to keep moving to and from people – some will become friends, others will not. It’s simple nature.

SillyLoveSong

SillyLoveSong

Ask anyone along the eastern seaboard or Midwest who has been outside during these waning days of summer – and they’ll confirm that life is ment to be shared with others of similar dispositions. They’ve heard the raucous, ear drum blistering beat of a billion circadas’ wings. Their harsh song dominates the air as each emerges from a 17 year down-under, solo, dark phase of development. They emerge with one unified passion – meet and mate according to Law #1. Each will belt out a grating serenade until it finds love or lust – either will do – brief hook ups are  not an issue for millenials. The couple will join forces -move as one – and resist any changes to stop. It’s a joyous celebration of Law #3, for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction.

Listen again – that’s Ode to Joy you hear being sung in the trees. Silence will prevail later as Law #2 emerges, and it always does, because heavier objects require more force to move the same distance as lighter objects. Lust satiated, passions wane, and the heavy weight of the female’s duty to lay eggs quiets the symphony. All that’s left for us by season’s end are the quickly tossed aside outerwear scattered under the trees.

To be relatively assured of hearing the next generation of circadas, abide by Sir Isaac’s first law – don’t stop moving because once you stop it is going to take a whole lot of force to get up and keep up with friends. This means playing with and supporting friends beyond a post on FaceBook. Be Newtonian; expect changes and alter your pace because it’s impossible to avoid unbalanced forces. Don’t let the weight of the world weigh you down so that those with lighter dispositions seem to dance while you slump. Stay in motion because someone’s going to need you long past sixty-four.

ZWLpath

Now Forward, Past Later

Tethered

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Solana Beach, CA

SolanaBeach

Solana Beach at Sunset

It is Labor Day. An impudent breeze is ushering out summer and welcoming football season. The winds of change shift to different compass points and we reorient ourselves from lazy dog days of summer to working like a dog. Honestly, if any of our pets were role models, it’s not a particularly aggressive work ethic.

Work is a lot like the wind. We gust with short bursts of high speed energy to complete some tasks while other projects require the sustained power of a gale that blows for days. There are those mind numbing jobs that catch us in irons, like a sailboat pointed directly into the wind. Lots of noise, sails slapping, slamming into waves, but no forward motion. You’re just stuck in the wind. I’d rather not think about work on this national celebration of a day off. It’s more fun to think about a simple way to play with the wind. Go fly a kite. It an easy way to kiss the sky while grounded to Terra Firma.

Kites are simple toys – no batteries required – just a kite, a tail, and a long, really long, piece of line. Kites are tethered aircraft. Sky high they fly while connected to the earth by a thin line to the kite flyer. Kite flying is an empowering pastime because it encourages imaginations to slip the straps of reality – so powerful that when the Taliban ruled Afghanistan, kite flying was outlawed. Relax, here it’s as legal as medicinal pot in Denver.

I realized during an eastbound Southwest Airlines flight bouncing through turbulence above the Rockies that airline passengers are tethered souls. We are linked by heart strings to family and friends six miles below our fastened seat belts.

Two weeks later; aboard S/v Ex Libris, Sioux Harbor, MO

Voyager 1

Outa Here

The Voyager 1 spacecraft has exited our solar system after a 36 year trek with no high tech entertainment aboard other than an 8 track tape-recorder endlessly looping the song “all by myself – just wanna be all by myself”. It is in a free fall through the galaxy – with over 31 million miles of look backs and multiple universes ahead. Voyager was launched the same year as the Star Wars franchise – that both continue to thrive is an assurance that old missions can still do exciting things – as can a graying kite flyer who stands grinning aside her four year old grand daughter who grasps the string and shrieks, “It’s up!”

Simple moments, a fresh breeze, a destination unknown, sometimes feeling connected to another generation – and the skies above – I feel like a kite.

Kites

Free to be tethered

Two Ships Passed

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Serenity

Photo by TJC

Finn is bobbing on the outgoing tide, her docklines are taught and straining to be free. She is unaware that when the wish is granted – the lines will be coiled and hung from a hook, her hull cradled by a metal berth, the topsides shrouded beneath a royal blue tarp. She will be separated from the sea and her crew, tucked away in the backyard for three long seasons. It’s time to swallow the anchor and retire from our seaside hamlet for another year. We are returning to our home midway downstream of North America’s greatest drainage system and leaving behind a narrow estuary with a mere seven mile flow from source to sea. Should we enjoy the continued blessings of health and prosperity we will return in a year.

The rivers flowing today will be long gone when we return. The water between the banks will have found its place in the sea or have joined the clouds in the sky. New waters will bubble up through the ground and fall from the sky as Nature invests in the flow between the banks. It is a small tribute to the anxiety that rides lightly astride my aging process that a humble prayer runs through my soul – a petition for good health and sharp wits to remain with those I love during the upcoming circle around the sun.

My worries concerning as yet unknown events that will transpire during Finn’s hibernation blossom from a seed planted a exactly a year ago when two ships passed in the night. Longfellow would explain that time laid its hand upon our dear friend’s heart, “gently, not smiting it”. It was as a “harper placing his hand upon his harp, to deaden it’s vibrations.” And so it was. The music ended yet the deafening quiet that followed his finale blares loud in my memory. While Peter’s heart was stilled, over the following two days his spirit briefly soared close to shore. We are certain that it heard the first cries of his newborn grandchild.  And so it was, that a mere year ago, “on the oceans of life” a grandfather and a newborn passed and  spoke to one another, then sailed into the night. Today the child’s heart vibrates with youthful zeal. She laughs to the beat of clapping hands as the family sings to her loudly and off key in celebration of her first birthday.

Today our family is reminded, by Longfellow’s verse, that, “God sent his singers upon the earth, With songs of sadness and of mirth, That they might touch the hearts of men, and bring them back to heaven again.” We are charged, as God’s earthly singers, to be in tune with the angels by sharing our grief and joy, fear and hope whenever we mourn a loss and celebrate a new life. “So on the oceans of life – we pass and speak to one another.”

On these tender days of August, for the rest of my earthly tenure, “My soul (will be) full of longing, 
For the secret of the Sea, 
And the heart of the great ocean
, Sends a thrilling pulse through me.”  Sail on through the heavens, dear Peter. Oh! What grand adventures lie before your bow, dear Maggie, as you captain your own vessel upon the stream for many, many circumnavigations around the sun.

sunset

Upstream or downstream? Depends on from where you look

 

Quotations from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poems, Ships the Pass in the Night, The Golden Legend, The Singers, and Secrets of the Sea.

Starring: Swift Turtle and St. Lawrence’s Tears, Part II

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St Lawrence

Lawrence of Rome, became a saint, according to one legend, as a result of his family being entrusted to safe guard Church treasures, including the sacred holy chalice of the Last Supper. Lawrence protected the Holy Grail and other treasures until corrupt authorities commanded that the sacred riches be turned over to the them. Lawrence defied the illicit mandate by secretly giving the Grail to his cousin in Spain for safekeeping.

Rather than give the other valuables he was guarding to the disreputable Roman prefect, Lawrence gave it all to the poor. Lawrence defended his defiance stating that the true riches of the Church were the weak, the poor, and the sick. Lawrence believed that the Church was ultimately responsible for protecting the welfare of its human treasures. Lawrence’s conviction that the strong should protect the weak gave him due cause for tears. The Roman officials caught on to his rebellion and became enraged. They literally fried Lawrence’s arse and roasted his head on a spit. His last words, shouted with great passion were, “I’m done on this side! Turn me over and eat!” Lawrence’s head never melted down or lost its form. This miracle proved that he was, in deed and in death, a saint. Not surprisingly, Lawrence is the patron saint of tanners.

The gridiron that roasted St. Lawrence is on display in a Roman chapel. The martyr’s charred skull is venerated by the faithful on his Holy Day, August 10th, which is of course when the Comet Swift Turtle shoots forth the Perseids Meteor Shower. Or, as it is known in many parts of the world, the heavens are ablaze with the Tears of St. Lawrence.

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Standing on the shore the other night, I searched inky skies for signs of tears from a man who died to preserve a wine glass and protect the poor.  I don’t believe that outer space is showered with tears of grief or fear. Rather, it seems that St. Lawrence laughs so hard that once a year his tears splash across the Milky Way.

Fire Up the Coals

Fire Up the Coals

The joke is on us – we too can laugh until tears flow -somewhere the Holy Grail is safe. St. Lawrence did his job well. Whether in faith or for real, the Grail is protected from harm, safe within Swift Turtle’s shells. It lies somewhere between pieces of legends and lands where stars and people fit into a puzzle of life experiences. So, fire up the grill, light a bonfire, lie down on Swift Turtle’s back, sail through a comet’s tail and witness the tears of a saint streaking across the heavens.

Skeptics may simply conclude that the magic of summer nights is just that – creative imagination. That should not keep us from appreciating the lessons of legends about the power that one turtle, one spirit, and one person can have in shaping our ways of knowing the world. Stella Luce.

TearsofStLawrence

Starring: Swift Turtle and St. Lawrence’s Tears

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Part One

Our swiftly spinning planet is tilting North America’s summer perch away from the sun. A celestial thief is purloining daylight hours to the delight of the miserly night sky. It is during these longer, cooler nights that a spectacular display transforms the night sky into a celestial light show. This weekend soaking rains are predicted to yield the sky to the brilliant Perseid meteor shower as our hemisphere passes through remnants of the Comet Swift Turtle. Actually, it’s Swift-Tuttle, but this is my version of an old story, and it’s my miscue, so Swift Turtle it shall remain.

Turtle Tatt

Swift Turtle

There are many legends about turtles. One tells the tale of  a Spirit who accidently hurt a sea turtle lounging in the sun on an ocean beach. This was long before turtles look like they do now. Back then, according to folklore, turtles were almost always female, shell-less, with soft supple skin, and strong bones. They were able to travel swiftly on land and in the sea.

According to my memory of lore, the clumsy Spirit was mortified that he had injured a delicate creature. To make amends he presented the swift turtle with the gift of protection. It consisted of two large shells picked from the shore. They matched size-wise and fit nicely together. The Spirit gently slid one shell  beneath her stomach and lightly placed the second upon her back. The Spirit proclaimed that she would never fear injury for whenever threatened she could pull her arms, legs, and head safely into the secure shells that would protect her from harm.

Time moved as swiftly as turtles during that mystical era. Eventually the shells hardened into mountains and hills. Swift Turtle’s carriage became an interlocking system of platelets all fitting together. Her limbs became the four compass points. Her head was filled with wisdom and led the way. Her tail was happy to follow. She moved with grace and peace. Swift Turtle became ancient and wise – a totem – the symbol of eternal earth. She carries the weight of the world on her back and reminds us that the universe is our home.

Totem Turtle

Photo by Dreamstime.com

Astronomers predict that one day the remaining embers of Comet Swift-Tuttle will crash into either the moon or Earth. I imagine that such a collision would have catastrophic repercussions and bring much sadness. Then again, Swift Turtle was granted the gift of protection. We know the children of the Comet Swift Turtle as the Perseid Meteor Shower, but medieval clerics referred to the blazing annual nocturnal visitors as the “Tears of St. Lawrence.”

Tears of St Lawrence

Tears of St. Lawrence

Next: Swift Turtle Honors a Tearful Saint

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Extended Forecast

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weather

The weather is here

Vacationers tend to obsess about the weather. They pray for blue skies and dread gray overcast horizons. Weather happens because of changes wrought by transient pressure systems. Case in point, an area of low pressure moved over southern New England last night bringing showers and downpours to the beaches. These were not welcomed by vacationing families paying two grand for a week in a quaint cottage with a water view. Stressed out employees who day dreamed of a vacation spent idling away sunny daylight hours with “no or at least low” pressure are not going to be pleased with today’s weeping skies.

The weather experts have predicted a dramatic confrontation between this morning’s low-pressure system and the arrival of a cold front this afternoon. When the two collide we’ll be drenched with thunderstorms that are expected to linger until sometime tomorrow. Fog and low-lying clouds will blanket the beaches. It’s not going to be a good day for Annette Funicello to play bingo.Image

What’s outside the window right now determines what’s going to happen later. The problem with forecasts is that they are based on complex mathematical equations called models. Weather models are subject to changes in winds, currents, and pressure. Weather forecasts are often wrong. Anyone who has ever come across the cover model of an issue of Cosmopolitan or paid attention to fashion knows for certain that models are not perfect.  A fashion model’s errors are made right by airbrushes, collagen, and plastic surgeons.

Too many people rely on The Weather Channel and newspaper weather maps rather than simply taking stock of what’s happening now. Sherlock Holmes once said, “The world is full of  obvious things that nobody by any chance ever observes.”[1] It’s relatively easy to become in tune with what is now. First, you have to intentionally pay attention. Don’t just look out the window, it’s impossible to feel the wind, smell the air, see the sky, and touch the weather from the inside of a window. By tuning into some things and tuning out other things we become awake and aware. If you shut your eyes and go outside it’s pretty easy to figure out whether your skin is wet from perspiration caused by heat and humidity or stinging sleet.  We become one with the weather.

Lightening

Not an optimal time to sail

What happens when we pay attention is that our consciousness slips between what we are observing and thinking about ourselves. Watching the subtle ripples and hearing the soft gurgles of an ebbing tide along a rocky shore or sensing the changes in clouds by the degree of warmth on our body brings forth a deep connection between consciousness and nature. Just as the clouds shift shapes and the winds change direction we change as a consequence of being in tune with our surroundings.

Pressure is part of what is within and around us. The weather, our jobs and vacations are all subject to chaos. The present is a precursor to the future but there is no way to predict exactly what’s going to happen later on.  We get a clue about what comes next by paying close attention to what’s going on right now.  If the barometer is rising the skies are going to clear. Pack a cooler and get outside. If the pressure drops pull out the Monopoly board. Either way, it’s going to be a great day. Obviously, if there was no pressure there would not be anything.

becalmed

Becalmed – awaiting adventure

[1] The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Royal Rains: Maine Squeeze 42 Redux

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Image

Forty two summers ago we planned a honeymoon to Little Dick's Bay in the 
coral blue, balmy waters of the Caribbean. We cancelled two weeks before 
the wedding when it became obvious that the $11.98 balance in George's 
check book would not cover travel and lodging.  

Plan B was enacted. We did a road trip to Bar Harbor, Maine and took a 
ferry to Nova Scotia. The first realism of our wedded bliss was, when it 
pours every day for seven straight days, even the raging hormones of two 
twenty something kids in love succumb to Maine's Rains. 
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I  recall looking out the car window back then and seeing a 
dreary vista of endless green trees and gunmetal gray that reached 
from sky to sea. It was exactly the same as it looks today. I doubt 
anyone could return the same compliment to us as we roll up Coastal 
Route 1, the slowest road in the USA that connects sassy travelers 
from Miami with Moose in Caribou.

Today the western world rejoices with the birth of Britain's royal heir. 
He immediately contributed continuity to the human experience by making 
it possible to know the name of the future king of The United Kingdom 
that will probably rule into the next century (the Windsor's are born 
with nearly eternal batteries).

Two items of mine make it possible to intimately connect to a time 
before the birthing of my brood during the last quarter moon of the 
past century. The first is a picture taken of me at a cheap hotel in 
Bar Harbor on my honeymoon. The later is the contents of my suitcase 
opened this morning in a somewhat less modest motel. The first had bugs 
in the shower stall. The present had a free breakfast Buffet.

In the fading photo a skinny 20 year old college kid (between junior 
and senior year) with long dark hair and freckles is wearing a tight 
pair of salmon colored jeans, a multi-striped tee shirt, flip flops, 
and a broad brimmed floppy hat. In my parrot decorated canvass bag 
you'll find a pair of salmon capris, a navy/white striped long sleeve 
jersey, flip flops, and my 5 o'clock wide brimmed sailing hat.  
Fortunately, the same loving man is willing to snap a picture. 

Some say there are two types of people. Those who are always evolving 
with the times. They tend to be open to change and flexible. The rest 
are stuck in some moment of their past that defined their sense of self. 
That pretty much sums up the stereotype of a New Englander. That moment 
is some time between whenever a dominant ancestor walked off a boat 
into a new life and the last time the Red Sox won the World Series. 

PrepAs for me, it must be that the times they were 
changing as I came of age and my life long preference for stripes and 
preppy clothes reflects that era. Stripes contrast what is and what's 
not, and prep is a preference for an enduring clean cut, hopefully 
not snobbish perspective.  It is a costume for someone who rides 
with the changes but keeps some things in life on an even keel. 

Its nice to celebrate the Prince's birth in a place populated by 
descendants of people who long ago revolted against the crown who 
profess deep affection for the Royals. May his grandpa and daddy 
preserve and protect this baby's future as a gilded age of Pax.  
Long  live the King.
royal coat of arms

 

Apophenia or Chaos Theory?

~
Seinfeld

Less Ado – More Nothing

I was never able to follow the TV show, Seinfeld for two reasons. I taught graduate classes every Thursday night when it aired and there was no such thing as a DVR.

The subject of one of our faculty retreats was the question, “What is Sienfeld about?” It was a heady crew and not having seen many episodes, I thought we shared a rather existential conversation framed by the group’s consensus, “Nothing.”

I just found a word that may define the theme of this blog, Apophenia.

3 Circles & 1 Line

3 Circles 1 Line

Apophenia is a new word for me, freshly discovered by Googling “what does it mean to see patterns between unconnected concepts?”. Somewhere in the Cloud, perhaps generated by the wisdom of Larry Paige and Larry David, the word that emerged was, Apophenia.  Apophenia describes my philosophical proclivity to see patterns and connections between otherwise random data. As a researcher and evaluator, apophenia is a good thing because it helps to identify Type I errors. Type I, as in detecting a false positive or false pattern in the data. This leads the researcher to say, “Don’t jump to conclusions.” In my business, a bad jump can be a career killing error.

Apophenia is something about nothing – it’s a quest to find the something that binds reality.  Sometimes something really is bugging us that no longer exists but still has power over our future. Save that thought for your shrink but avoid it after two margaritas.

Everyone experiences apophenia – conspiracy theorists more than others (are the UFO’s in Roswell, NM hiding the missing bullet from the Kennedy Asasination?). Perhaps the most famous apopheniac was portrayed by Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. How fast can you count toothpicks or cards?

Butterflies and Chaos

Chaos

This blog is also about Chaos Theory, the science of surprises. The world is made up of relationships that don’t follow a straight path from A to Z. It’s okay to skip a vowel or consonant whenever we try to make sense of our life experience. Chaos Theory and Apophenia make it acceptable to refrain from predicting the future or worry about things we can’t control. Chaos Theory helps us see connections between a butterfly flapping its wings on one continent and a hurricane in another and between the glaciers melting in the Arctic and monarch butterflies disappearing in Mexico.

These ways of knowing the world call for us to question whether  the nature of the universe is to establish connections. Recognizing connections, seeking patterns in a random world gives birth to fresh insights and great wisdom. Making connections changes the way the world is viewed. Seeing the world through chaos changes what is – to what can be.

There is another word that describes my blog but it’s less exotic. I’ll credit this one to the psychiatrist Carl Jung who used the word synchronicity to describe connecting things in the mind with other events in the world. Jung cautions that two random events are probably just that unless connected by a person’s subjectivity.We want to make sense of the world by believing there is a certain order to existence. There is a more subtle desire implied by synchronicity. People want to believe that many connections have causal relationships. We hear the adage “things happen for a reason” to rationalize misfortune. The optimist exercises synchronicity when giving money to a panhandler believing he will use it for food. Money in a tin cup and food at the quick mart have no real connections unless one wants them to be linked. Reality is mostly in our heads.

It’s all about the word. Is this blog about apophenia or nothing? Chaos Theory or Synchronicity? And if none of them fit and a tree falls in the forest will a bear still defecate in the woods? Imagine a revision of an episode of Seinfeld where George Costanza tells Jerry, “I want to pitch NBC a show about apophenia – folks will love it! There’s nothing like it on the air – just people making connections between random things.”

Darn, that was Keifer Sutherland in 24.

24

Bermuda High

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RoseLighthouse

A Bermuda High is pumping sultry heat and stifling humidity into New England. It is a typical high-pressure summer weather pattern that forms in the western Atlantic. This bodes well for vacationers and the beach crowd – in fact the weather is breeding beach bums. We’ve got balmy water temps around 69 (note that’s about 30 degrees cooler than a healthy blood stream) with waves at 1 – 3 feet and the usual dose of SSW summer breezes. We’re having a 4th of July weekend sizzler.

ImageIt’s all-good if you’ve got sunscreen and access to either the Narrow River or Narragansett Bay. Then again, my dear Mom would declare the hot humid cocktail as “oppressive”. There is an unsettling aspect of Bermuda Highs. Comparable to the “good witch” and the wicked witch of Oz, this cyclone has a darker power. She steers the course of hurricanes. Bermuda Highs draw great strength from the oceanic atmospherics that generate humongous clockwise winds that give birth to storms that are pushed toward the eastern US seaboard.

Bermuda Highs interact with other wind and wave patterns, thus what lies ahead, weather-wise is difficult to predict. When the system shifts to the east or west it weakens or gains strength. We can bet on one thing – movement in either direction will spurn hurricanes – when they will be strong enough to wreak havoc and where they will land this season is anyone’s guess.

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Wicked

So it seems this sizzler of a weekend is a calm before the storm. Sooner or later the clouds will come, winds will batter the dunes and great waves will tear up the beaches. I’m not inclined to breakout my yellow slicker and fill the bathtub with water just yet.

Sometimes, our lives seem so perfect that we fear our happiness will be drenched. Looking at the weather map – that seems true. If you’re in Indian Rocks Beach or New Orleans today – you’re stuck in a low. It’s a far cry from my High but hold on, no pattern holds indefinitely in a world that spins through space on an axis. The way a multitude of factors in Earth’s atmosphere interact assures us that tomorrow can never be a perfect copy of a perfect today.

Why not treat today as one does during a Bermuda High in New England? Try to be comfortable and chill out. Tune into what you’ve got and stop worrying about what you may get or could lose tomorrow. Carpe Diem.

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Life is Good

Wormholes

~

When I was a little kid, like everybody else growing up in the 50’s, I knew a short cut to just about everywhere. Taking the short cut might mean sneaking over a neighbor’s fence, hiking through a patch of swamp, or swimming across the cove. The point of a short cut is to save time and be there.

Yesterday my brother and I pondered the difference between

Wormholewhat we feel is a short cut to Connecticut versus a much prettier route. It’s a classic debate between the highway or the scenic way to travel. The crux of the argument is whether the travel is worth the time on either road. On one hand, the faster one travels, until reaching the limit, which is just a tad less than light speed, time, slows down. That would put a check in the plus column for taking the highway.

Maturity in part involves skipping shortcuts. These appear to be rational decisions. After all, you could get cut on the fence (and by the way, trespassing is rarely socially acceptable), wreck your shoes in the swamp, or be caught in the current. There’s another reason for skipping short cuts. We reach a certain age when its understood that we can plan all we want for tomorrow but the future can change on a dime. Most of us hang on to memories of our past, especially the good times. Few among us want to know the excruciating details of our future.

According to physics, there are short cuts between space and time. These wormholes come in very handy when theoretically traveling between universes.  The neat thing about wormholes is that they make time travel possible. Whether the traveler gets one way or round trip tickets is still a thorny problem.

Time Travel via Wormhole

Time Travel via Wormhole

When we don’t see family and friends often, the rare get-togethers are just like wormholes. We can slip effortlessly into recollections of past times shared and transcend today with plans for tomorrow. The wormholes also seem to speed up time so that the visits go by in a blink and are quickly stashed as Facebook posts and fresh memories.

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Wormhole

Sailors know that the quickest way to anywhere is rarely straight ahead. Being on the water is about being here as opposed to just getting there. Long summer days can be measured by time spent better than by time saved. These are days for taking a time out to slow down and be present with now. Which is why, we should all be choosey about who and when we spend our time. Wormholes are hard to find and there is just so much time allotted to our journey.

The lesson learned from wormholes is, wear wings. Tempus fugit.