I love the idea of a stardate: some absolute point in time irreducible beyond the universal presence of stars.
Though clearly an arbitrary work of fiction, inconsistent even within the cosmos of its own creation, there is a part of me that believes we are all capable of tuning in to the same universal hum.
Why not a moment of being so purely yours, so purely now, it may never be repeated? What if, instead of disappearing into an ether of old age and foggy dreams, all your moments once used are stored in a back end galaxy warehouse, neatly identified, named and numbered for future reference? They could be recalled at will by you and yours for those times around the dinner table when someone says "Remember when...?"
Like memory, only more immutable.
And if such moments are absolute, then all moments yet to be are also. They exist, pre-cataloged, shimmering just beyond our experience but still capable of being imagined. Of being experienced. Of being lived. Perhaps the instant we realize the possibility of such moments is the instant we decide to tune in, to realize we can hear the ocean even without a shell cupped to our ear.
What is it Cassius says in Julius Cesar? "The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves...."
I've decided to make my personal stardate tomorrow, so I never run out of time.