Monday, November 23, 2009

I can't wait for tomorrow! I'm gonna get to bed early, so it comes sooner!

PAUSE!! [still-frame of a churl, arrayed in pajamas, midway through a leap into his luxurious matted rushes] To an observer (moving at the same constant velocity as the churl--and I don't know why our subject is a twelfth century peasant) who stays up all night to check, morning does NOT come sooner. BUT, to the churl ... well, does it? It seems the moment he lays his dear unwashed cap onto the straw the rooster's cock-a-doodle and the movements of the livestock lying next to him wake him up: the new day has arrived!
What on earth is going on here? What absurd amnesia! To our observer, its as though the peasant had said, "In five minutes, the goodwife is going to bring me some hot cider 'n' brandy; I want it now, so I shall close my eyes and travel to the future" and closed his eyes for five minutes, opened them, and declared "Oh good, it worked! [In sooth, it hath surely worketh!]." What should our observer think? He sees one continuous person (body?) the whole time.
Does the sleeper experience the normal course of time, and then retro-actively experience the time-warp? How closely is my wakeful consciousness tied to my person? Without memory, my own actions might not seem to be 'mine' at least in the present. Consciousness seems very closely tied, for it is in wakefulness that I relate with other persons...I think. On the other hand, maybe this slumbering personhood is a deeper window into what a person is, or maybe the waking perception of time is too narrow.
I'm drifting now, because I actually am heading to bed, so I leave off this incoherent rambling in the hopes I may have sparked the interest of a mind better held together.