If the doors of preception were cleansed.

What does it say about reality when the perception of how two bicycle rides, of the same distance, covered in the same time, can seem so dramatically different? On Thursday, I completed a metric half-century (50km or 31.07 miles) out into the rolling countryside North of Ipswich and, though the sky was mostly filled with dank, grey-and-dun clouds threatening snow, the occasional shafts of sunlight and eggshell blue sky, and the smell of wood smoke and wet earth, made it a life-affirming experience.

And yet, on Sunday, I did the same distance, but out towards Felixstowe, and the minutes seemed to melt away as though they thought they were seconds. Even though the ride took about the same time, it seemed to pass far more quickly. Was it because they were roads I frequently ride along during the week and I wasn't distracted so much by new sensual information?

To my mind, it is less of a question about the why, rather that it is better to ask that if we all perceive events differently, what effect does that have? We are all connected, but do our shifting perceptions of time have a greater or less weight to our influence? Would a sentient AI robot be bored by its existence and be tempted to exercise a greater influence just to pass the time?

Questions that I may have to think about as I write my next book.

Meanwhile, ponder this transient moment – a flock of sheep out at Falkenham just about to scatter in response to my presence.

Thank you for your time.

 

 

Try not to do the stupid things stupid people do.