The Phases

Another word for the corporeal world is The Temporal. I’ve found myself in some very strange debates about there being no empirical evidence for Time and therefore it is not of the material and real world. That is not the reasoning I would use for examining the otherreal or surreal nature. Although the passage of time is an immediate experience, I associate so much meaning to time. Solidity and corporeality, too, is an immediate experience and a meaning that I attribute to a lot of waves and vacuums.

Remove that another step, and welcome to the realm of notions, otherreality and surreality.


I said “surreality,” not surrealism!


I want to write about the guisers of Time. I too readily believe in the guisers of natural phenomena, of human values, of objects, and even of locations. The guisers of Time were more difficult for me to accept, because the standard that I set for reality is “any sort of object constancy.” Linear time was the only way of it. Time just is. Time was not someone that I could relate to in a way that I could categorize as numinous or metaphysical.

The guisers of Time, or as I think of them now as “The Phases” embody…subject constancy, I suppose it should be, although constance refers to a notion that might not apply.


I think about how we have named the shards of aeon: evening, Tuesday, tomorrow, the Tokugawa Era, the 15th century, the Year of the Metal Sheep, four o’clock, monsoon season, October.


I imagine a pocket of surreality where it is always Tuesday. This must have developed in some sort of context, other days of the week, in a twelve-month year, to English-speakers, probably in some part of a spherical planet that generates a particular quality of seasons.

There would be a story of some Icelandic hero who got his hand bitten off by a giant wolf, and Tuesday named in honour of Tyr (who is probably not, himself, Tuesday personified.)

In angelology, Raphael is an angel associated with Tuesdays. Maybe that would be closer to a time-guiser, but not quite it yet.


It should always be Now everywhere on earth, even though we measure it by time zones in order to make some sort of sense. To make even more sense that makes less sense: the poles of our planet have become never-ending Winter seasons to those from temperate climates.

Where it’s always Winter, it’s always the Yuletide season. Hence, Santa Claus is said to live in the north pole, where the season supposedly never changes. Although one of my definitions of a season is that it does change. Otherwise, it would be a climate. Like time zones, perhaps, there would be summer in the North Pole, but that would still appear an awful lot like a winter’s day rather than a summer anything.

In any case, Santa Claus is active approximately around the Winter solstice to the northern hemisphere.


There are myths of guardians of the past, present, and future: Norns and Fates.


There’s a belief, or many small beliefs, in a very old man who is time itself.


There are stories of great cities or civilizations that appear at the height of their glory but once every hundred years, for a day…and then vanish, as if they never were matter and location. Perhaps they were time.


There are passageways to the Faery, rumored to open at dawn and dusk (somewheres). These passageways seem to, from the point of view of the corporeal and temporal world, vanish when a proper day or a respectable night takes its turn.

Perhaps there is never a passageway, only that dawn-ness or dusk-ness is a non-negotiable condition for the existence of that part of the Faery.


Somewhere in all these fanciful stories, I would like to think, is a demonstration of the nature of the time-guisers.