On this eve of Christmas Day, I found myself deep in thought. It seems a mere five minutes since last year. Maybe it’s just because of that old chestnut: “time flies when you’re having fun.” Each morning I do wake up excited as to what adventures the day will bring.
Dopamines, those pleasure-inducing chemicals, supposedly interfere with our internal clock, so one theory goes. When the good times roll, the levels surge, perhaps creating the illusion that time is moving faster.
There also exists a notion that, as we age, our focus narrows, and we may inadvertently overlook those mundane moments, thereby contributing to the illusion that time has hastened its pace.
Yet, as this year’s candle flickers with a petering flame, its light diminishing, another year meanders down the river of time, destined for the boundless sea of eternity. Hmm, that feels uncomfortable. I’m not one for poetic metaphors, especially mixed. So I’ll resort to quoting some ancient sage, maybe Virgil, who mused, “Tempus fugit,” while another, not one to be outdone, chimed in with “Carpe diem.” But let’s set aside such moral musings, for it is Christmas. May your festivities be joyful, thoroughly joyful.
But to the photo: it is taken early on a windy morning from Cliff Rigg, looking over Gribdale towards Easby Moor.
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