One day when my son was around four, he curiously asked me about an event happening during the upcoming weekend. Neither of us remembers what it was about. Perhaps because I was preoccupied by something, I told him we will find out when we get there. His response stopped me in my tracks and has been the subject of numerous conversations between us ever since:
Dada! You don’t go to the future. The future comes to you.
It is fascinating how his sharp child’s mind processed the passing of time. He accurately depicted that we are passive, with no agency whatsoever, to the flow of time. The future indeed flows towards us relentlessly like a perennial river. We are jolted, knocked, and polished depending who we share the now with. But in the end we all erode to oblivion.