"The present is a point just passed"
About this Quote
Time doesn’t “move forward” so much as it evaporates under your feet. “The present is a point just passed” turns the comforting idea of now into a tiny miss, a micro-regret baked into ordinary perception. As a musician’s line, it reads like someone who lives inside timing for a living: the beat you’re on is already behind you by the time you feel it land. In performance, you can’t inhabit the note you’re playing; you’re always preparing the next one, adjusting after the last one. Russell’s phrasing captures that performer’s paradox with a clean, almost scientific snap.
The intent isn’t to be mystical. It’s to puncture the self-help fantasy that you can simply “be present” if you try hard enough. The subtext is that the present, as a stable place you can occupy, is largely a story we tell ourselves for comfort. Our nervous system is always buffering, always translating sensation a fraction late. So the “now” becomes less a home than a wake.
There’s also a sly emotional register here: the present as something you’re constantly failing to catch. That can read as melancholy, but it also dignifies rehearsal, revision, and second takes. If the present is always just gone, then art becomes a disciplined way of negotiating that loss: you shape what’s slipping away into rhythm, into memory, into something you can return to.
The intent isn’t to be mystical. It’s to puncture the self-help fantasy that you can simply “be present” if you try hard enough. The subtext is that the present, as a stable place you can occupy, is largely a story we tell ourselves for comfort. Our nervous system is always buffering, always translating sensation a fraction late. So the “now” becomes less a home than a wake.
There’s also a sly emotional register here: the present as something you’re constantly failing to catch. That can read as melancholy, but it also dignifies rehearsal, revision, and second takes. If the present is always just gone, then art becomes a disciplined way of negotiating that loss: you shape what’s slipping away into rhythm, into memory, into something you can return to.
Quote Details
| Topic | Time |
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