You can make a time machine

Did you know that you can make a time machine?

Me?, I hear you ask. I can make a time machine?. Of a sort! I admit that my proclamation is a bit romantic, but stick with me.

I was in the National Galleries of Scotland earlier today. One painting in particular caught my eye, an oil canvas by David Octavius Hill (1802 - 1870) titled Edinburgh Old and New. The painting, made in "about 1846-47", according to the Gallery, shows the city centre over 150 years ago. There are many recognisable landmarks -- the Castle, Princes Street, St. Giles Cathedral. I was mesmerised by the photo because I felt like I had stepped back in time. I was seeing Edinburgh 150 years ago.

Shortly after seeing the photo, I looked outside a tall window in the Gallery to see the city centre. I was surrounded by buildings, some hundreds of years old. In amongst the old was the new. The new train station; the new railroads. The new shops. I was more aware about the contrast between the old and the new. The painting took me back in time. Looking out the window took be back to the present. Now, I wonder: what will the future of the city be? How will Edinburgh be in 100 years?

This artist took me through three eras: the past, the present, and the future. They made a time machine.

I sometimes wonder to myself "is {topic}" worth writing about? Should I write about something if the topic has already been well covered? Should I write if there is a chance nobody reads my words? To answer all three questions, yes. Your words or art can be a time machine that takes someone to a moment; the past, the present, the future. You can paint a picture in someone's mind -- figuratively or literally -- that takes them to a different time.

What you write or paint or create now will enable you, and others (if you choose to share your work), to go back to a place and time. You have made a window into which someone can explore an era, a moment, a landscape; whatever you choose to document.

You might be thinking "James, this is a bit abstract!" Indeed it is. You cannot build a literal time machin

e, but you can experience moments from the past. Let's make it more tangible. Think back to a historical novel you have read, or reading entries from a diary in history class. Those documents opened up the past to you.

I document moments that made me smile or wonder. Perhaps nobody reads them, but I know one thing: anyone who does can go back to the moment I was in when I wrote that post. I can go back and remember a past time; a time when I was smiling. I suffer from anxiety. Knowing there is a positive memory I can read, if I need to, is a delight; a support.

When I document how to solve a problem with software, engineers years down the line may encounter my documentation and think "oh, this is how it was five years ago!"

If you were looking for another reason to write, this is it. You can enable readers, and yourself, to travel in time.