From the Hunched Man, page 3

Can a descendant ascend?
Does that simply depend?
Is there always a beginning before the
beginning?
Does time ever end or does it just bend?

Does time ever end, or does it just bend. I made an attempt to answer that when I was about five or six and discovered, while stepping into an evening bath, that people die.
Was that an unrecognizable baptism into one of the major realities of life? Or simply the unintended consequence of my sister’s story. Her mind was on the story, not the implication; not the consequences for a child still in Eden.
There was no religion in our house; no organized, ritualistic and rhythmic reciting of prayers and promises.
After a tearful, unsuccessful journey to my mother’s hip, where I thought I could cling until she could prove there was no need to be afraid, I was left to wrestle with the question on my own: how does it make sense that when you are once alive, you can cease to exist?
Within the frame of my experience, it could not be twisted into anything acceptable so I had to take a chance and ride with my imagination somewhere I had never been, and from where I have never fully returned.
Smiling, I explained to my sister the answer: “Its like we are a story in a book,” I said, “and when we die, that means God has stopped reading us.” I waited for it to sink in for both of us. “But, you know,” I hastened to point out, “He can always pick up the book and read about us again.”
I am not sure exactly where my contact with the idea of God came from. Perhaps from some other story read to me by someone in the family. It makes no difference that I can think of.
And now, that same question and a variety of answers continue to flash into my mind in almost kaleidoscopic patterns. Patterns that range from Jung’s Synchronicity to David Bohm’s, Implicate Order.
Does time ever end, or does it just bend?

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