The Order of Time

In the elementary grammar of the world, there is neither space nor time—only processes that transform physical quantities from one to another, from which it is possible to calculate probabilities and relations

Why do we remember the past and not the future? Do we exist in time, or does time exist in us? What does it really mean to say that time “passes”? What ties time to our nature as persons, to our subjectivity?

What am I listening to when I listen to the passing of time?

We think of the world in terms of stones, mountains, clouds, and people, and this is “the world for us.” About the world independent of us we know a good deal, without knowing how much this good deal is.
Our thinking is prey to its own weakness, but even more so to its own grammar. It takes only a few centuries for the world to change: from devils, angels, and witches to atoms and electromagnetic waves. It takes only a few grams of mushrooms for the whole of reality to dissolve before our eyes, before reorganizing itself into a surprisingly different form. It only takes the experience of spending time with a friend who has suffered a serious schizophrenic episode, a few weeks with her struggling to communicate, to realiz