Circles Within Circles - Dec 25 2024

 

Circles Within Circles

Dec 25 2024

An analogue clock

  —  with 3 different hands

fat , thin, and middling

circling at different rates,

a clock-face

with precisely spaced numbers

numerals

symbols  —

quietly ticking

tells time.

What an elegant compression

of information

conveyed at a glance.

And a horologist’s delight

in its intricate mechanics

of spinning gears

and precisely fitting cogs

packed into a compact body

of stainless steel

polished brass

solid gold.

Except when this choreographed clockwork

of circles within circles,

of symbols

arranged in a ring

like some occult zodiac

of arithmetical signs,

looks utterly baffling

when asked the time.

Is this what awaits us?

Cognitive decline,

so even a simple clock

is not only inscrutable

but seems absurd.

A future of digital time,

until even a day

of hours, minutes, seconds

blinking sequentially

makes no sense.

The end of time,

when you will inhabit the moment,

live in the past,

or simply find yourself unmoored

adrift

oblivious.

Odd, when kids today

can’t read a clock,

were never taught

to tell time.

Of course, this isn’t creeping dementia

it’s merely expedient.

But still

something is surely missing

when you can’t hold it in your hand.

Can’t marvel

at its elegance

complexity

containment.

Can’t feel the heft

of time made material

and a craftsman’s expert care.

It was when I first saw someone with dementia look at an analogue clock-face with utter bafflement that I felt the horror of losing your mind while still having insight. The awareness that you once could and still should be able to do this simple thing, but with so much going on and all of it so impenetrable you felt utterly overwhelmed.

That I saw how we take for granted our understanding of things that are actually quite complex: after all, who knew you once had to be initiated into the occult practice of reading a clock; that this was a skill that was not self-evident but actually had to be taught!

And that I truly appreciated the elegance of analogue time and mechanical clocks.

This poem also speaks to a certain nostalgia for the material in a world that is increasingly a digital and virtual black box.

For craftsmanship and mastery in a world of swiping and button pushing.

And for connection of cause and effect in a world where everything is electronically mediated, so that action is increasingly detached from the outcome.