I once heard or was told that humans are really the only organisms that measure time. Plants are aware of the rising and setting sun, animals are aware of changes in the seasons but humans are the only ones who quantify and measure time. I hadn’t ever really thought about it in any great detail before I came to Costa Rica (specifically this part of Costa Rica) but I actually appreciate the sentiment more than I think I ever would have in the past.
There doesn’t seem to be any Time in this little village between towns – and I mean that in two ways. There never seems to be enough time to get everything done, and there also seems to be no temporal or chronological movement. At least, that’s the way it seems here…
A lot of Pagan and Heathen information talks about cycles of one kind or another such as the Year Wheel or the Cycle of Seasons etc; I wonder how those Pagans and Heathens would experience this place where there is no Time. Seasons are signs the world is getting older, but in a place that is always hot and humid and without much change from one moment to the next or even one week to the next, can you really say that Time exists. A different person than I might try to find some way in which there is a sign of the cycles continuing, that is their prerogative, I really do feel as though the cycles are absent here. Having written that I now wonder why such an absence is important to me now when it never has been in the past.
As far as the experiential is concerned, there is no Time. The buildings don’t rise nor do they fall. They merely deteriorate and are repaired as required. The local phrase is ‘Pura Vida’ meaning ‘pure life’ or ‘all life’ but really, when I look at the people as they say it I can see that there is no life, pure or otherwise. People here might not voice it the way I do but they seem to know that everything is in stasis here. One of my peers describes it as brain drain; all the skilled or well-educated people leave the area because there is nothing here for them. None of this is to say that it is a miserable place here. It’s just subconsciously uncomfortable. Nothing moves, nothing grows or dies. Everything is just in this… holding pattern.