The Sandwich of Time
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Does the title of this post have you a bit worried? (Me too.) A bit skeptical? (Yup.) A bit concerned that I have taken my sordid affair with Mr. Metaphor too far? (Could be. But all’s fair in love and war, right?)
Time is a sandwich. The sandwich of our lives. We have no choice but to taste it. To consume it. To swallow it. To digest it. And we do. Constantly. Yum.
The Past. The Past is one hearty slice of bread. Or bagel. Or roll. Pick your favorite species of carb. It doesn’t much matter. The Past is the foundation. It sits there, in subversive or soggy silence, on the plate that is life. It is what it is. We can’t change it. We need it to make our sandwich.
The Present. Ah, the Present. This is the middle. The heart of it all. The good stuff. The turkey. Or cheese. The hot and spicy peppers. The pickles. The fresh stuff – lettuce and tomatoes. (I’m trying here. I don’t know what you like in your sandwich.) The Present is the source of surprise, taste, and nutrition. The proverbial meat of it all.
The Future. And then we have the Future. The topper. More bread. But we never know how thick that slice will be, do we? Or whether it will come. The Future, unlike the Past, is not a guarantee. There is always that chance that our sandwich will be open-faced.
Fine. So? Time to eat?
Almost.
Have you ever had a sandwich in which the bread is just too much? And when you bite it, you can’t even taste the middle stuff? The good stuff? This happens all the time. Our slices of Past and Future are too bulky and we can neither taste nor savor the Present. This is adulthood, no? Our mind zips between who we once were and who we will be one day. Our focus and our fears are trained on Then and When and not Now.
So should we try to honor Atkins and banish the bread? Should we try to pile our plate high with proverbial protein? Should it all be about engaging in the Present? It can’t be. Our identities are wrapped up in who we once were and who we will be. A sandwich is no longer a sandwich without bookends of bread. (Oh no. A new metaphor. Stopping now.)
How, in the process of consuming time and living life, do we not miss the Present, the meat of it all? In trying so hard to taste the present moment, do we somehow miss its essential flavor?
I don’t pretend to know. But thanks to my brilliant friend Lindsey of A Design So Vast, I am now thinking about these things. Click over to read my Present Tense interview with Lindsey where I ponder these important and intriguing questions about existential nutrition a bit more seriously.
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So, what is your favorite sandwich? Do you buy this metaphor? That the present moment can often get squeezed mercilessly by the bulky bread of past and future? What about the condiments? What glues together the various components of time?
I agree with BigLittleWolf about the hurry. The rush – we miss the present – the meat (smoked turkey, brie and apples for me, please!) – because we don’t slow down and savor it. We don’t let ourselves be in the moment. So thank you, for reminding me that the meat really is the good stuff. And I need to enjoy it!
You know me: I love a good metaphor. But this one has me worried. I’m a vegetarian, so the “meat” of my sandwich, the Present, is often distinctly low calorie, and the bread, the nutty whole grain or the buttery croissant, is where the energy comes from.
Oh dear.
Such an interesting question you pose! I tend to skip the bread. I rarely make a sandwich at home and in restaurants I often peel off the bun/bread and just eat what’s inside. I’m fairly effective with disregarding the past/future in my every day life, as well. I try to live very ‘presently.’ I’m not always successful. I dwell sometimes or worry. And when these moments seem overwhelming you will find me tossing aside the bread to enjoy the meat and toppings!
You know when the good stuff in the middle doesn’t get overshadowed by the bread? When you’re eating a really juicy hamburger. And while I’m not here merely to advocate carnivorous habits (with apolgies to Kristen…) it gets me thinking about how I can make my life more like a burger and less like a sad turkey sandwich.
I don’t know the answer, but I think I like this approach. If I try to make the present big and thick and juicy, then whatever sits behind it or in front of it will seem much less significant by comparison. Now, how to pick out what is big and juicy is harder. But perhaps it I approach all my decisions with the question, “Is this more like a burger or more like a turkey sandwich?” then I will end up in a place where my life is dripping down my fingers.
With that, I have officially made myself starving. It is now 10:20am and if I don’t eat a burger and fries soon, I think I might die!
I love the metaphor too and since my sandwich of choice is a wrap I am thinking that the important part, the inside, the present is so wrapped up in the past and future that I can barely see it! It’s all stuffed in there, trying to get out but the past and future are tucked around it, suffocating it… oh dear as well. Time to change my sandwich selection to something where I can see the present more clearly.
Like becca, my favorite sandwich is a wrap.
I like to think of it as my past holding everything together…making me who I am. I’m fortunate enough to live near family, so my Past is constantly being brought to the forefront. Reminiscences and rememberances (say that 10 times fast) are a constant part of my day, and I love it.
My Present: kids, friends, church, even daily chores are the delicious and varied fillings in my wrap.
I think, at this point in life with preschool aged kids, that my Future is the wheat roll that comes on the side. It’s there, and I’m sure I’ll get to it, but I’m going to enjoy my wrap first. I’ll use the roll to sop up the leftovers of my present.
It is a wonderful metaphor! And all I can say is that we are often in a terrible hurry. Partly because that thick bread that is foundation may be hard to cover over with sufficient present, so we rush to do so or don’t do our ‘due diligence’ in finding the right sustenance. Perhaps we don’t know what that is, but we’re rushing and overwhelmed and sometimes caught up in so much hunger that we take whatever is available. As for the future? We never know. I would say that however we imagine that “top slice” – it is always so much air.
I am a fan of the “open faced sandwich,” and tend to eat any sandwich of substantive size euro-style, with a knife and fork. I find I can manage it, rather than it managing me.
But for right now – that image is making me hungry! (And it’s time for lunch.)
Aidan, I love your very creative metaphors (or as it applies to the present tense, “meataphors”). Those bread slice bookends really got me.
I’m not a sandwich girl–wheat allergies, ya know? But I got what you were trying to say. I really did. Great post.
I’m not going to lie, this metaphor went right over my head. But I can tell you about my favorite sandwiches . . . yummmmmm. I am a fan of your traditional diner-esque tuna salad sandwich. I also like chicken and egg salad sandwiches. And I have to have mustard. No matter what. Mmmmmm. And I like tomato and lettuce thank you!!
I am probably going to either blow the metaphor or reveal myself to kind of suck but I love bread. I could live on crusty baguettes, NY bagels (preferably hot H&H sesame) and Cosi flatbread. Bread (and 2 babies) is the reason I used to be 35 lbs heavier. (Thank goodness for running which enables my um, bread habit.) I’m just not that interested in the meat, at least sandwich meat. I am on trial right now so when I am in court I am hyper present. As soon as I get back to my desk, I crash and I feel like mush. Because I have been working so hard, I have not been physically present with my kids much but those stolen hugs and snuggles at bedtime are my “meat.” I hate not being more involved in their lives right now but I know it is finite.
Gah. Also a breadless-sandwich-eater. Which doesn’t make for much of a sandwich, does it? Now I must stop with this metaphor before I get depressed.