How many times I can snap my fingers

I am at a conference that I have been going to for quite a number of years. It’s really quite nice, with a great community, interesting sessions, and a really cool opportunity for all sorts of discussions.

But one thing is a little unnerving. Precisely because this is a small conference, and the number of people is relatively contained, it is all too easy to line up the different years in my mind: This year, the previous year, the one before that, and so on.

And this leads to an odd telescoping effect, as though no time at all has passed from one year to the next. It’s like some sort of strange fantasy story in which everyone ages a year every week.

I’m not complaining. To paraphrase Woody Allen, getting a year old every year sure beats the alternative. But still, it is unnerving to see the passage to time placed in such stark relief, and to bear witness to the clear juxtaposition of successive years, as though time had suddenly advanced with the snap of the fingers.

On one level it’s all very fascinating, but I’m not sure how many times I can snap my fingers.