“When we see the shadow on our images, are we seeing the time 11 minutes ago on Mars? Or are we seeing the time on Mars as observed from Earth now? It’s like time travel problems in science fiction. When is now; when was then?” Bill Nye the Science Guy
“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” Susan Sontag
The horse might know the way but does he know about the coming storm? Depending on who you listen to, we have a winter storm warning with predicted snow, rain, more snow and temperatures dropping to 6 degrees with wind gusts of 30mph.
Unless he has a TV like Mister Ed, he probably has no idea and will get a good nights sleep then get up in the morning and go wherever he has to go. Unlike people, he doesn’t have the capacity to worry about a future which doesn’t exist.
Buddha (allegedly) said: “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” On the other hand, Alan Watts (allegedly) said: “This present moment never comes to be and it never ceases to be, it is simply our minds that construct the continuity of thoughts we call time.”
In my next life I’d like to come back as a horse despite Ernest Becker’s view of them as “living in a world without time, pulsating, as it were, in a state of dumb being.” Not an Amish plow horse in Pennsylvania but a wild horse living on the beach somewhere warm, maybe Utah. Ain’t never been there, they tell me it’s nice.
Note: Out of respect to the Amish I instructed one of the horses to block the farmers face and he did it perfectly. Click on the image to see it larger.
“Tobacco, coffee, alcohol, hashish, prussic acid, strychnine, are weak dilutions. The surest poison is time.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
“In this short Life that only lasts an hour
How much – how little – is within our power”
“The park grass looked greener, the park benches looked better and the flowers were trying harder.” Charles Bukowski