TIME

Time is always moving. I observe myself moving through time. “Passing time” is a common phrase, yet in truth, time is moving through me—and I have no control over it. Krishna says in the Gita, “Time I am, the destroyer of everything.”

I cannot hold on to the moments of joy woven into time, captured only in memory. The mind has the power to slip into the past or construct a so-called future—yet neither is reality.

We think we control time. But in truth, it controls us. Do I know what lies in the next five minutes, the next five years, or the next fifteen? I can plan all I want. Some plans may manifest in time; others may detour me through unexpected turns. Time does its own thing. It has its own mysterious will. It is a powerful energy of God. Why do we try to control time? It is a fool’s game—like trying to control God Himself, for time is one of His energies. He says, “Time I am, the destroyer of everything.”

It is like riding my bike. The wheels of time carry me through different terrains, different experiences. Sometimes through quiet countryside. Sometimes along asphalt pathways in the city. Rivers on my left, bridges to cross, forests on my right. Sometimes climbing steep hills, sometimes cruising downhill with ease. The terrain I pass through is my karma, and time keeps my wheels turning. Ups and downs. Urban landscapes and open fields. Busy streets and silent roads. This is life.

Woven into time are moments of disappointment—in people, in government. Woven into time are moments of pleasure and joy, surprises that bring elation. Woven into time are moments of pain and despair. All these experiences leave their imprint on the vessel I inhabit—the vehicle that rides through time.

My vehicle gets worn down. Parts need replacing. It gathers dust and requires cleaning, repair, sometimes even an upgrade. Yet this body carries me on the journey.

I once believed there was a destination. But the paths changed so many times that the map became blurry, the GPS lost signal. In those dark moments, when we go offline, confusion clouds the way. Yet the wheels keep moving.

Even when the map appears clear, I now see the map of life as much larger than I once imagined. And I question: Is it about getting somewhere? Or about riding, exploring the terrain—only to discover the true journey is within?

As I ride, I pass an older woman. Her wrinkles are decades of experience etched into her skin—evidence of her passage through time. I pass a younger woman, her face radiant with youth and beauty. The young in all of us resist the imprint of time—the marks that wear down the vehicle and reveal themselves as lines upon the skin. Yet time will show up in our lives, in ways we welcome and in ways we resist.

Sometimes my wheel grinds uphill—the body and mind fatigued from effort and struggle. Sometimes my wheel glides downhill—carried by the breeze of good karma.

Can I hold on to the downhill as I move? No.
Can I rush the uphill by pedaling faster? No.

Time moves. And I ride.