Recently, I asked a small group, “How do you mark the passage of time?” One person watches the sun’s movement through a window. Another relies on their dog’s daily routine—barking as a signal to let them out. Someone else spoke of seasonal changes in nature. A few mentioned calendars, digital or paper. One reflected that they no longer pay attention to time now that they’re no longer clocking in at work.
Our perception of time shapes how we find meaning and purpose, especially as we age. It influences our decisions and priorities. This connection to time is a key part of spirituality:
Spirituality is how we seek and express meaning and purpose and our connectedness with the sacred, others, ourselves, creation, and time.
The Future
As the Steve Miller Band sings, “Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, into the future.” And it does—sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once.
As a child, I remember counting down to holidays and vacations. The night before, sleep was elusive, anticipation high. Time moved slowly then. But as I have aged, it seems to speed up. How often have we heard, “Enjoy your kids while they’re young—you’ll blink and they’ll be grown”? I recently resisted saying that to a young mother. We all come to that realization in our own time.
In my 50s, I had a moment of clarity: I’ve celebrated more Thanksgivings than I likely have yet to experience. That awareness makes each one more precious. Laura Carstensen, founder of the Stanford Center on Longevity, developed the Socioemotional Selectivity Theory, which explains this shift. As we become more aware of our mortality, we prioritize differently—especially how we spend our time.
The Past
Even as we look ahead, we carry our past. Our experiences—work, play, learning—shape neural pathways that help us recognize patterns and adapt. These pathways help us process the present and imagine the future.
Interestingly, research shows that as we age, we often reinterpret past experiences, especially painful ones. A friend wrote her memoir in her 90s, omitting her divorce entirely. Her second marriage had been longer and more fulfilling. She had healed, and that chapter no longer defined her.
But not all pain fades so easily. Unresolved guilt or shame can linger. That’s why life review can be powerful, especially as we approach the end of life. Sharing our story in a safe space can help unburden the soul and bring healing.
The Present
One of the greatest fears I hear is: What happens if I can’t remember my past? Dementia is a real and difficult challenge. But it also teaches us something valuable—how to live in the present.
Because dementia disrupts memory and future planning, those living with it often experience the present more vividly. There’s wisdom in that. Mindfulness—being fully present in the moment—can help us slow down, feel our bodies, and release anxiety about the past or future. We can only control our thoughts and feelings now.
Time often collides—past and future meet in the present. When I feel anxious about what’s ahead, gratitude for what I’ve already experienced helps. When I’m stuck in the past, I ask: What do I really need to carry forward with me?
And when time feels too fast or too slow, I center myself by listening to my heartbeat. It’s a simple, grounding rhythm that reminds me I’m here, now.
I stopped wearing a watch about 12 years ago. There are enough clocks around. I still think in blocks of time—between now and the next event or holiday. And when I reflect on the past, it’s those events that scaffold my memories.
We can’t stop time from moving forward, and we can’t live in the past. But we can reflect, imagine, and ground ourselves in the present.
So I’ll ask you: How do you keep track of time? And how has that changed throughout your life?