There are times, and there is Time, as many times as there are languages, perhaps. For in the form of "time of ___" time continues. But then continuation is just one way of being for time, and so continuation itself will then be inscribed into the series of time which will then be unified under a different time. Whether we count time in twos, threes, fours, or fractions, or in imaginary numbers, in imaginary times, it is possible to speculate. And in speculating, one probably needs to live the experience of the time to which he turns in his speculation, yet his reader (including himself) will only see a trace, receiving an intellectual intuition but not an experience of time.
There is perhaps one Time, but then this Time will eventually be at home in freedom, and this freedom will be the freedom of the One, the only ground of all time, since it is the freedom of Time. And this One is the "Godhead" of which Schelling speaks. The space for speculation opened up in Schelling's insight is very valuable. But this big "Time" is not a time, and it is really timelessness. Perhaps even Schelling confuses between this and eternity but then this is partly because he never came to come to the end in his work. Time forms a rhythm, the fabric of the world, a politics of consciousnesses, of multiple forms of consciousness. It is the real side of the world, music, which can be traced out ideally in space and then be unified in a form. A plastic form, of sculpture, for example. And what exactly does Schelling mean by "indifference"?
It is not that thought will first produce time. I already know time, time is there. In fact, everybody knows time. The only difference is between knowing well and knowing very crudely. Time is implicated in everything, for it is rhythm, the fabric of all relations. And if one were to think well of time, one ought to stay silent and still about space. Space is the absolute "out-there" which is silence itself, the lack of all rhythm, and for that very reason also the absolute wellspring of all rhythm.
Are there any laws, any regularities, as to how this or that particular kind of time is disclosed? For it seems that some times "go on" seemingly indefinitely, while others only give themselves in glimpses. The guiding metaphor is here the layer, the world of Time as a layered world. A cicada cries, birds fly, the cloud flows, the traffic moves, my eyes trace the rhythmic pattern of the roofs, the roads, the basketball court, I hear the breathing of others, of opponents, of friends, I read and feel as if for every penetrating insight a part of spirit - not necessarily "mine" unless one radically re-interprets the meaning of this term - is awakened, made explicit, "for-itself," but not necessarily a self- relation. Thinking time is the flight from all systems, from the authorities of present systems, of correctness and propriety. It is to live in a space of clear and fresh air. It is a new life. Schelling also saw that the rhythm of times, dictated perhaps by the absolute Time which is either timeless or eternal, I cannot intuit it at present, is the totality of life. Every finitude, as a limitation, is a limitation of time, limited by Time, and returns back into Time. This is nature itself.
And why is a human being given this extraordinary capacity to meditate on something like time? Or rather, given that the human being is a meditating being, why is it that such a meditation is violently interrupted, perhaps forever for many people, by the irresistible so-called "needs" to "preserve" oneself? Why this call to perpetual action, which eventually makes the air stuffy for the intellect? But in equally violent fashion an intellectual intuition can intervene, forever haunting the body towards a different path, that of thought, of thought of time. An absolutely "useless" flight of fancy. For Time allows only a limited "amount" of time for the thoughts of time to becomes explicit for a thinking being. Such is part of the laws of Time. It is as if Time did not want itself to be caught by something that is "beneath" it, that is, by a particular time.
Every trace in space brings the imagination back to a time for a time. There is here a pull towards simplification and "leveling" in the Kierkegaardian sense, where time is no longer dialectical, no longer growing out of itself. However, with sufficient luxury, one comes to a far richer intuition of the way in which space brings different times together. Times, which are not necessarily epochs, eras, or periods. These are ready-made terms. There are many more. Suspend these, a summer afternoon calls.