 
                        20080628.03

     The present for me is what I am at this moment.  What
I am at this moment becomes evident from my action.  What I
am at this moment is revealed by what I do.

     My computer has a battery supported clock which is
continually visible on my computer screen, so that with each
letter that I type I can see exactly, to the nearest
second, what time it is.  I could write a computer program,
which would automatically register the time of each
keystroke of my composition, admittedly creating a computer
file that would be awkward to read.

     The clock in my computer is controlled by its own
crystal.  It is accurate to within only about six seconds
per day.  Every four hours my computer clock gains one
second.  Resetting the computer clock is simple.  I have
written a computer program which will fetch the official
time from the U.S. Naval Observatory Master Clock.  Every
few days, I execute this program to reset my computer
clock.  My clock is accurate to within one second.  One
second is arithmetically divisible into milliseconds,
microseconds, picoseconds, femtoseconds, there is in fact
no limit to the divisibility of the second.  Nonetheless,
inspite of the immediate accessibility of the correct time,
I am at a loss to define the present.

     It may properly be asked: Where on the scale of
divisions do I identify the present? Is the present the
microsecond or the millisecond? Is it the second, the
minute, the hour, the day, the week, the month, the year
the century, the millenium?  Where any answer would be
arbitrary, there is no answer.  Perhaps the only correct
answer is that the present is not to be defined by any
clock.

     Since I continue to use the term "present", perhaps a
functional description is in order.  Perhaps it is best to
remove from my vocabulary, or to bracket, the term
"present", and instead to describe the circumstances to
which it might refer; and by the same rationale, eliminate
the term "future" as well, since I cannot apprehend it, and
since I never reach it.  Perhaps I should content myself
with the insight that I live on the cusp of time, as if I
were surfing on the crest of a continually advancing wave,
and that I am subject to continuing change as if I were
organically part of the wave on whose crest I find myself,
for ever being changed by the wave of time that carries me.

     My present is what I am at this time, and what I am at
this time can become evident only by what I do at this
time, where "at this time" may be conveniently replaced by
"now."  There can be no argument but that my present action
or inaction can in theory be correlated with the physical
and chemical structure of my body, specifically of my
brain.  Such potential correlation makes the significance
of such action more persuasive for those who require that
all reality have a physical correlate, but adds nothing to
it.  The physical correlate, of course, will be fragmentary
and tentative, far from conclusive and complete.

     As the body is strengthened by physical exercise, so
the mind is strengthened by its thoughts.  I must
anticipate that my experience of time and my experience of
the present will be made more meaningful and more
compelling by my effort to understand them.

                     * * * * *
Copyright 2008, Ernst Jochen Meyer
