Time

And behold, all things are written by the Father; therefore out of the books which shall be written shall the world be judged.


Sometimes it seems to me that the whole of reality, as time passes, etches a record of itself in something like glass. This record contains all that is and ever was while encoding quantum entanglements and collapsing manifolds of probability. No, Locaha, Mau gets his "does not happen." (Nation, by Terry Pratchett)

The future is another story. Views of it from now must necessarily be colored by the intervening unmade choices, as well as the conventionally circular fact of its viewing (which leads to the question of the limits of the physics, if you will, of this trans-time persistence medium). Still, certain probabilities will be vastly stronger than others and so a shape remains. Color and detail come only from the passage of time, but the preview permits the sculptor of the future more freedom and power in its construction.

Some who gain this view have Mau's silver thread, drawing them forward through turmoil towards tomorrow's peaceful shores, and can drag a nation along. Some don't see, while others are told they can't see so often that they stop believing their eyes; only darkness remains. These see as through a glass, darkly. Others are plucked from intratemporal existence and shown the end from the beginning--the full crystal record--and then brought back here to teach squares about hyperspheres. (Flatland)

Gaining this view has a weight. No free lunches here. To lay it by and walk away is to abet the darkness that cloys at humanity's heart; to embrace it is to summon cleansing fire, purging darkness and impurity from the chosen path.

Next time you see someone, see them in the glass. Lift and ennoble them, and in turn, live a little lighter. One day you may get to see the crystal record along with your parts in it.