Way Out of Line

October Rhododendron blossom, next to Fine Arts East, Willamette University Campus

This little beauty doesn't seem to know what season it is. I know Rhodies as spring bloomers, but this plant has a reality season all of its own, as I snapped its portrait just last week. As I did, I wondered what was with the creases in this petal. Is that where the blossom had to fold in on itself to slip through the wormhole from April to October?

Many scientists and mystics find themselves on common ground when it comes to the time/space continuum, i.e. in agreement that it isn't linear. In a letter to the family of a close friend who had died, Einstein once wrote "...for us physicists believe the separation between past, present, and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one."

I had this demonstrated to me in fine fashion about two years ago. I had grossly miscalculated the time needed to get from Salem to the Portland airport for a flight to LA. This was after living here for 12 years which included countless trips to the airport... I'm not sure what happened to my linear brain. For some reason I thought I could teach until 12:30 and catch a 2:30 flight. The drive to the airport is an hour and 15 minutes with no traffic. During class when I suddenly realized I had allowed only 2 hours to drive to PDX, park, take the shuttle, get through security, and board the flight, I knew I had a problem. The issue was compounded when I ran into complete gridlock on I-5 due to an accident ahead. The freeway was a parking lot. At this point I did a very bad thing and backed up an entire mile on the shoulder of I-5 to the previous exit. Yes, I did. I hope my children never emulate me. I took a couple of wrong turns before finally getting oriented toward Portland. On the way toward the small town of Canby, I looked at the clock in my car. 1:34. This was not good. 

So I put in my angel assistance order. I asked that, with time not being linear and all, could they just rearrange it a bit, or at least stretch it for me. And just like in a restaurant, I figured once the order was in there was no need to keep saying it again and again. About 5 or 6 minutes later I looked at the clock once more, at which point it read 1:29. I thought, "Now I know time isn't linear, but that is crazy!" 

I continued on, crawling through Canby with all of the other diverted traffic. I even sat through one particular stop light in town 6 long times before getting through. After several more delays I finally found myself on I-205. The final stretch! When I got to the remote parking lot at the airport, there were cars in both of the lanes to get a ticket stub, so I pulled up behind one. It just sat there and sat there and sat there. The other car moved on, and I thought, "Oh my gosh, do I really have to back up again?!" I did, then drove through the lot guided by instinct, found a spot, and looked up to see the bus coming.  I hopped on, hopped off, dashed through the ticketing counter area yelling toward an agent as I went, asking which gate it was for my flight. She yelled back the gate number to me, along with "Do you have your boarding pass!!!???" "YES!" I sprinted to security, where I discovered yet another gridlock. BAAAAAAH!!! I asked the little man at the A-list aisle if I could please go through. He in turn asked me if I was a gold member, or a this or a that, and I said "No, I'm not, but..." "I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't let you through." "But if I get in that line," I said, pointing to the slowly snaking mass of travelers, "I'll miss my flight!" "I'm sorry Miss, there is no way I can let you through." I slumped, dejected and amazed that after all of this, I was going to miss my flight after all. It was 2:15, which seemed like a linear miracle, but I couldn't make the final step from point A to point B. And then, randomly, he looked up and offered this afterthought: "Unless you are flying to Seattle." "I am! I AM! I AM flying to Seattle!" (that was my connecting flight). So through I went in record time, having a chance to stop at the restroom (thank God!), and when I got to my gate at 2:20 they were just beginning to board the puddle jumper to Seattle. I waltzed onto a completely full flight just in time. Completely full, that is, excepting the two seats on either side of me.

In the ultimate sense, everything is now: past experiences, the future, the present, other lifetimes, lifetimes to come. Rhodies in spring, summer, fall and winter. The 15th century's minutes ticking in tandem with the 22nd's, with the idea of "century" just being one of those very convincing illusions. Makes me happy to think about it.