More time is not more eternity. — Juan Ramón Jiménez
What if someone or something exists only for a very short interval of time? Would you be able to love something so evanescent? Derek Walcott, in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech essay, The Antilles: Fragments of Epic Memory, says that while many
To truly love someone, someplace, or something, requires time devoted to it. In the era after the death of god, love is the only sacred emotion left to us. And the sacred cannot be abstract. It requires one to get to know the object of one’s love intimately. On Easter Island, there are certain coves that are sacred to the natives of the island. You love the particularity of that object — that is the opposite of abstraction.
If love requires time to develop, it is also true that time is a test of love. For if you love someone or a place, you will continue to love them even after they are long gone. (Love Constant Beyond Death as Quevedo observed.) After your beloved has died, and your home has crumbled to dust, you will continue to love them.
In this world shrouded in the
Inspired by Milan Kundera one can say,
But the other time, physical time, the first eternity, leaves behind those you loved (and still love) and lost. They become part of the physical entropy of the universe.
It leaves them behind even when governments erect statues and proclaim holidays in their memory. For the fanfare of celebration of the beloved is but the loudest forgetting of all. It is the loss of the individual under the tombstone of the symbol.
Love is a different kind of time. It is the personal time that contradicts the loud utterances of the fake love that Time proclaims. Love is time with small ‘t’.
Love is the secret and personal time in which perdures the true nature of things.