Time Does Not Pass Here

March 1, 2025 Life Lessons No Comments

You’re listening to a piece of music.
It’s not loud. Not especially grand. But at some point, you notice that everything else has fallen away — your plans, the time of day, even your name a little bit.
You are not ‘using time.’ You’re not ‘in a moment.’
You are the moment.
And the strange thing is… it’s not moving.

The clock keeps ticking

In daily life, time is measured and managed. Appointments, deadlines, hours left in the day. We speak of time as if it were money — something we can spend or waste.

But every now and then, the framework fades.

In a quiet walk, in deep love, during meditation or even while doing something simple – like washing a cup – something may shift. Not dramatically, not with fireworks. Just a soft click inside. And you find yourself in a kind of stillness. Time hasn’t stopped. But it no longer seems to be pushing.

You’re not being carried forward.
You’re just here.

A different kind of movement

These are not ‘productive’ moments. Nothing is being advanced. Nothing solved. But somehow, they feel full. Sometimes even more real than your usual day. There’s no story being written. No need to remember it later. And yet, you do remember — not the details, but the sense of having touched something quiet and alive.

You didn’t go anywhere.
But something opened.

It may have only lasted seconds. Or perhaps you stayed for a while — unaware of time, until time returned. And with it, something of the moment remained.

Where did you go?

Nowhere. That’s the strange part.

You didn’t escape time. You didn’t transcend it. You simply were not pushed by it. Maybe time still passed — but you did not. You stayed in place, like the eye of a storm, or a leaf caught in still air. Everything continued, but not through you.

This is not a mystical experience. You don’t need to believe anything. You’ve been there before, many times — though maybe without naming it. And maybe that’s how it works best.

The timeless in time

Some say eternity is endless time. But maybe it’s a kind of depth in time — like the ocean beneath the surface waves. Always here, always still, even when the surface is busy.

You don’t have to try to reach it. You only have to not look away when it comes to greet you.

These moments won’t solve your problems. They won’t give you certainty or answers. But they may give you… a pause. And in that pause, a glimpse of who you are without rushing toward anything.

The quiet return

Eventually, the world resumes. You check the clock. You remember the next task. The moment is gone. But is it?

Or did something stay with you — a sense that you are not just a person in time, but a presence that time sometimes brushes against without passing through?