An A-Temporal Account Of Time

                                    by Patrick Călinescu

 

 

I know this sounds quite scientific; but it’s not. In fact, I do assure you that what follows in the space of the next two pages – or thereabouts – is the intentionally fragmented thought, in order for it to look like it has always been part of a unitary text, of a man who, in doing so, has risen himself high above time, to look into it, and high above all temporal demarcations, to look at them.

What follows below is, then, this man’s line of thought in the form of more than one line being enough to comprise this very line. So, all the necessary lines that his line of thought covers will have to be dialogue-like because this is the only way all the inner lines of his line of thought can communicate with each other to form his singularly positive line of thought on his a-temporal account of time.

This man thus stands against, and in front of, this man, his himself, for the following inquiry into time’s lack of temporality in a world that shouldn’t miss it at all.

“My dear temporarily alienated self, let’s then embark on our dialogic expedition by simultaneously beginning and ending time and its temporal course through the world.”

“Notwithstanding my acceptance of your proposition, I must ask you why you think we should have this talk at all about time and its becoming a-temporal by means of a simultaneous entry into, and exit out of, time itself?”

“For it’s precisely in this simultaneity of time’s points of existence (the beginning being its point of existence through which it comes into existence and the end being its point of existence through which it goes out of existence), which might also be referred to as the mutual annihilation of its points of existence, that time can truly be a-temporal. If you deprive it of this simultaneity, or annihilation, time will then always be fated to bear its own temporality with dignity and, consequently, fatally bear on its very temporality.”

“I understand now. So, time has to begin and end its temporal course, as it were, at the same time in order for it to become a-temporal. Oh, I think I get you now even more than when I used to: if it annihilates both its beginning and its end, time can then be a-temporal because it no longer has any point of existence either to come into existence or to go out of existence; so, by actually ceasing to exist, it becomes a-temporal.”

“Very correct: time can only be a-temporal if it completely ceases to exist. Out of its existence, or, as some might argue, beyond its existence, time is superiorly a-temporal.”

“I understand… but this in itself and by itself raises two difficult problems to overcome, and I’m afraid that what you have just said, your solution to time’s need to be a-temporal, which is equally mine, as I’m your yourself, will get complicated exponentially by its under-running, and intellectually stalking, aporias. One is, if time becomes a-temporal only upon its going out of existence, since it then no longer exist, how can it still be one way or the other, temporal or a-temporal? By ceasing to exist in order for it to exist in just one specified way, doesn’t it cease to exist at all, including in the way in which it has been prescribed to exist if it ceases to exist? Of course, this would necessarily imply that, in order for time to exist – in one way or the other – it doesn’t have to cease to exist at all, but only partially. Time, if it wants to become truly a-temporal, it does need to cease to exist, by annihilating both its beginning and its end into a simultaneous taking out of existence of both its beginning and its end, but it merely has to cease to exist partially, and not completely, when it would actually no longer be able to be either temporal or a-temporal simply because these two modes of existence have become invalid owing to its going (or having recently gone) out of existence. Time thus needs only a partial going out of existence in order to cease to exist thoroughly if it truly wants to become a-temporal. And two, logically out of one, is, if time only needs a partial going out of existence in order to cease to exist completely so that it may acquire a real a-temporal nature, does this mean there can generally be two ways of going out of existence: a partial one, which ultimately takes nothing out of existence if it still exists to be one way or the other, and a total one, which would positively take out of existence everything that has so far existed, letting thus nothing of prior existence still to exist to be one way or the other? So, you see, my good self of mine, these are the two difficulties that might stop you, while you’re still not me, from making time genuinely a-temporal for all eternity or, at least, for the duration of this brief account of time’s lack of temporality. How do you respond to these two aporias and what is your solution to circumventing their illogical grip?”

“My good self, thank you for your not being myself yet. If you had already been myself, I would never have taken notice of these two hurdles in the way of my attempt at making time truly a-temporal. And, of course, thank you for showing them to me in as bright a light as only the light of prolix arguments can offer. If, in what I have to say next, in conclusion to your having found many a fault with my attempt at making time a-temporal, and until the conclusion of our debate on time’s lack of temporality, you look for two counter-aporias, which, in their turn, would ad infinitum propagate other rows of aporias, I must then inform you this is not my current line of thought, and it will not be mine as long as we are still disjointed into my independently self of yours and, respectively, your equally independent self of mine. My line of thought doesn’t lie in countering one already revealed set of aporias with another one just about to be revealed. Instead, I will go on pursuing my attempt at making time duly a-temporal and giving it a proper account of how it has become so, irrespective of how many other aporias I’ll still be running into.”

“You have all my attention and my net of logic is extensively cast to catch any other illogical glitch that might rise from your positively free line of thought.”

“So, I have originally stated that time can be made a-temporal if its beginning and its end are simultaneously suppressed. I have also said that it’s only in this simultaneity (or simultaneous annihilation of both its beginning and its end) that time gets what it needs to become truly a-temporal. But, in stating all this, which you have plainly disagreed with by affirming the logical impossibility of time’s becoming really a-temporal on the grounds of its not being able to cease to exist partially in order for it not to cease to exist completely, have I also said why time has to do away with both its beginning and its end if it wants to become purely a-temporal?”

“You seem to have only given an insight into how time becomes a-temporal: by taking out of existence its beginning and its end, and by depriving itself of its temporal birth and death.”

“Indeed, I have so far been quite scanty in providing a good explanation of time’s reason for wanting to become a-temporal; but I seem to have been even scantier in giving the true mechanics of time’s becoming a-temporal. I think it doesn’t really matter why time wants to become a-temporal; we all know, while we’re still different from each other, that time only wants something as long as we want time to want something. So, to be honest, it’s us who wish time would be this way or the other way: in my case, while it’s still mine, a-temporal. As for how it’s become so, or can indeed become so, based on my solution to this problem, I needn’t talk much. The mechanics of time’s lack of temporality is quite simple. They follow a pattern very much in line with this temporal insufficiency that makes time truly a-temporal: a different dearth, which is not temporal, but rather of proportion. Time seems to become a-temporal only if parts of it – its extremities – are cut off of its body. Apparently, the time that is a-temporal is a mutilated time. A time that is incomplete: a time that is missing something from its body. Then, if this is the case, I can ask myself, feeling now en route to rejoin you, my former, primal and basic self, how can time be both incomplete and mutilated (that is, a-temporal, at least according to my definition), and also whole (that is, of time; it being, a-temporal or not, of an evenly distributed substance)? Seemingly, only out of, and beyond time, if it’s to become truly a-temporal. This means that time, when it’s a-temporal, or in its a-temporal habiliments, is either incomplete and mutilated, hence handicapped and not able to run and pass, or whole and fully able to run and pass, but rather than being in, and belonging to, this time, which borders on its past (a beginning that always ends) and its future (an end that always begins), it is actually out of, or even beyond it. In conclusion, it having finally arrived at the last line of my line of thought, now almost indiscernibly yours, time can only be a-temporal if it does go out of existence; however, this is neither partial, nor total, for this going out of existence doesn’t mean extinction, but rather mutation; so, time can only become a-temporal if, by going out of existence, and instead of ceasing ultimately to exist either partially or completely, it mutates itself out of its temporal existence, which is limited by a beginning and an end to time itself, straight beyond its temporal confines, in the purest lack of temporality I will ever wish to know.”

                  

 

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