TIME
Time, at its core, is the structure that allows movement through different moments of existence. In physics, time is considered one of the fundamental dimensions of spacetime, interwoven with space into a single four-dimensional continuum as described in Einstein’s theory of General Relativity (Einstein, 1915). When life ends — what we commonly refer to as death — it is not that consciousness becomes trapped in a single point in time, but rather that the individual no longer moves through the sequence. Each moment, each temporal frame, already holds its own version of awareness — a distinct expression of the self within that slice. Yet the broader consciousness, the source behind all moments, may continue to exist beyond this framework — like a light that shines through the frames of a film reel, giving each still image the illusion of life.
As we live and make choices, each decision leaves behind a version of ourselves — not merely as a memory, but as a complete and ongoing existence within that moment. This idea resonates with interpretations of the Many-Worlds Interpretation (MWI) of quantum mechanics, which posits that all possible outcomes of a quantum event actually occur, each in its own branch of the universe (Everett, 1957; Tegmark, 2003). These versions, though originating from us, begin to diverge, gradually becoming independent from our present self. Over time, some may even develop self-awareness, evolving their own path through time, distinct yet linked to our original identity.
In this view, every moment we live creates a permanent imprint — a living echo. In quantum gravity, particularly in approaches like loop quantum gravity, time is sometimes treated as granular or quantised, composed of discrete "planks" of time at the Planck scale (∼5.39 × 10⁻⁴⁴ s), the smallest meaningful unit in the fabric of spacetime (Rovelli, 2004). Each has the potential to grow, to change, and perhaps even to travel through time in ways we currently cannot.
A helpful way to visualise this is to think of time as a roll of film — the kind used in old cameras or projectors. Each frame on the roll is a still image, frozen in place. As light is projected through the film and the frames move past the lens, we perceive motion. In a similar way, each moment in time — each "plank" or instant — contains a complete version of ourselves, frozen but eternal. These versions do not vanish. They remain, forever present in their respective frame.
Every choice we make becomes one of those frames. But equally, every choice we don’t make also exists — in other rolls, in other timelines, in other dimensions. While we might only walk one path, all possible paths are walked somewhere. Even the options we reject — or never imagine — are being enacted, perhaps by versions of us in parallel realities. This idea finds support in the multiverse hypothesis, which emerges in various forms across string theory and cosmology, including eternal inflation theory (Linde, 1986) and landscape cosmology (Susskind, 2003).
For a being who resides in a higher spatial dimension — specifically, the fourth spatial dimension, which some physicists relate conceptually to time — this complex web of timelines would be fully visible. Such a being, as conceptualised in dimensional theory and string theory, would perceive time much as we perceive space — not as a sequence, but as a terrain (Rucker, 1984; Greene, 2004). This creature could see all outcomes at once: the choices we made, the ones we didn’t, and what could have come of each.
From our perspective, this is almost unimaginably vast. But for such a creature, time is not a sequence — it is a landscape. And within that landscape, we are not singular. We are many.
To understand just how far beyond us such a being might be, consider how we relate to a plant. Compared to a plant, we live in a world of staggering complexity — we have work, purpose, tools, language, transport, agriculture, architecture, even the ability to explore space. These aspects of our reality are entirely beyond a plant’s comprehension. It simply cannot conceive of what it means to have a job, to build a rocket, or to write a book.
Likewise, a being in the fourth spatial dimension would live within a reality so complex, so layered, that we could no more grasp it than a tree could grasp ours. And that is just one dimension above our own.
If this is true of the fourth, what lies in the fifth? The sixth? The tenth? M-theory, a leading framework in string theory, proposes 11 dimensions, where different vibrational states of fundamental strings define particles and forces (Witten, 1995). Yet even this may be just a beginning. I do not believe the eleventh dimension is the end. I believe there are more — perhaps infinitely more — but we are bound by the constraints of third-dimensional thinking and mathematics. Our models, elegant as they may be, are shaped by the limits of our perspective. Once one enters the fourth dimension and beyond, entirely new forms of understanding, mathematics, and perception must surely arise.
Time, then, is not merely something we move through — it may be the first doorway in an infinite corridor of dimensions, each one stranger and more profound than the last.
References
Einstein, A. (1915). The Field Equations of Gravitation.
Everett, H. (1957). "Relative State" Formulation of Quantum Mechanics. Reviews of Modern Physics, 29(3), 454–462.
Tegmark, M. (2003). Parallel Universes. Scientific American, May 2003.
Rovelli, C. (2004). Quantum Gravity. Cambridge University Press.
Linde, A. (1986). Eternal Chaotic Inflation. Mod. Phys. Lett. A, 1(2), 81–85.
Susskind, L. (2003). The Anthropic Landscape of String Theory. arXiv:hep-th/0302219
Rucker, R. (1984). The Fourth Dimension: Toward a Geometry of Higher Reality. Houghton Mifflin.
Greene, B. (2004). The Fabric of the Cosmos. Alfred A. Knopf.
Witten, E. (1995). String theory dynamics in various dimensions. Nuclear Physics B, 443(1-2), 85–126.
