We are born into the present tense. It is then the present tense for the rest of our life. From our perspective, we live in one long moment because we cannot sense the shifts of what we think of as one moment changing into the next. We can only perceive this moment. Those incremental differences we call seconds, minutes, hours, are imperceptible to our sensory awareness. This is probably because we cannot feel Earth’s rotations or revolutions (the way we can feel the wind, for example) which is what causes that which we refer to as the next moment.
If time cannot be divided into segments (as we identify it), there is no difference between one hour or 90 years. Thus, our whole life can be recognized as one moment. It streams. We are born into one streaming movement of physical activity by our body with no stops, starts or divisions.
For me, this means that instead of thinking I was born into only the early conditions of my life, I realize I was born into the whole of my life at once. I was born into the present tense. From where I stand the present tense always feels the same; it feels like here, this. It is where I sense my weight, my skin, my surroundings, my thoughts. The quality of the present tense always possesses the same perceptual conditions.
The present tense is where my conception, birth, death and all the stuff in the middle occur, equally. The present tense doesn’t differentiate; it is every second of my life, one and the same. Oddly, every experienced second of my life is really the next second. But it doesn’t stop there. My entire timeline is the continual next. I find it truly bizarre to acknowledge that my life is always the new time until I am no more. I will have lived in the present moment, engaged in one uninterrupted action.