Creaking Phantom Mob, 68th Day of Hagwinter, 525 M.E. (Aldebaran): Chattanooga, Tennessee is about 90 minutes north of here by automobile. I live close to Interstate 75, and the trip is pretty much a straight shot up the highway. The drive takes me a while to first reach I-285, Atlanta's Perimeter highway, and then a while to pass Marietta, Georgia, including the exits for both the North and South Loops. As I continue to drive, I eventually pass Lake Allatoona and Red Top Mountain State Park, and eventually Cartersville, Georgia. Soon after Cartersville is the turn off for U.S. 411, a four-lane highway that eventually narrows to two lanes leading into some nice hiking and backpacking territory. But staying on 75, there's a long stretch next without a lot of noteworthy features, at least to this city boy, until getting to Calhoun and the first Starbucks in quite awhile. Then it's more long miles until the Dalton-Ringgold manufacturing area (mostly carpet) and then, finally, the Tennessee state line and soon after that, Chattanooga at last. The highway is quite busy with 18-wheel tractor-trailers and other trucks, and a driver has to remain vigilant and alert the whole team. ready to switch lanes when needed and mindful of potential hazards on the road.     

You're excused for thinking so, but I didn't drive to Chattanooga today. Instead, as per my alternating day routine, I sat for 90 minutes today. If I had instead jumped in my car at the start of the period rather than sitting on a cushion, I could have been in Chattanooga by the time the session ended. The reason I bring up that hypothetical road trip is that the perceived passage of time during 90 minutes of zazen seems much shorter than the drive up to Tennessee. The 90-minute trip up to Chattanooga seems to take a long time - that stop at the Starbucks in Calhoun is as much to take a break after all that driving as it is for the coffee. Each individual minute sitting on the zafu doesn't seem to speed by particularly fast, but when the whole session is over, it feels like far less time has passed in total than during the drive up I-75.

I think the reason is that more events occur during the drive than during the sit. There's the assessment of the risk posed by each large truck, the changing of lanes, and the progression of milestones and landmarks from the Perimeter to Marietta to the lake and beyond. Sitting, very little happens - I sit for thirty minutes, a timer rings, I get up for a couple minutes and stretch my legs, and then repeat that two more times. Our perception of the passing of time is based in part on the accumulation of events that occur during that period. That's why when in an emergency, like if our car hits a patch of ice and spins out of control, those seconds seem to pass so slowly - we're aware of each little moment and occurrence during a life-or-death event, and cramming, say, 10 events into two seconds makes those two seconds seem to last as long as 10 other events over two minutes. 

It was 2:30 pm when I sat down to meditate, the timer struck three times and just like that, it was 4:00. Nothing happened, and the minutes flew by. Sitting on the cushion is like entering a time machine that carries you forward into the future at the rate of one minute per minute - time doesn't perceptibly seem to move "fast" but the whole thing is over before you know it. During a road trip, time doesn't perceptibly move fast or slow, but you're quite aware that after 60 miles "only" an hour has passed.

We are not in time - time is in us.