Sometimes it is so much as the philosophical act, but sometimes not. I think it is just the memorableness of the thing. With momentum there comes a bit of monotony that lulls the mind to sleep. It is the waking from that lull that is a moment.
Wikipedia says that it’s 1/40th of an hour in medieval units, or 5/114th of a second in the Hebrew calendar. And it’s also an important concept in Physics.
But I think lilrabbi is onto something with the “memorableness”. At the very least, the moments that you didn’t remember wouldn’t contribute to your definition of “moment”.
A “moment” is a discrete unit. It’s the shortest unit of time that a person can relate from memory without having to say, “and then” (because that would be stringing multiple moments together). The best remembered moments might require a tremendous amount of language to relate faithfully, but still would never use “and then”. This is probably a technically adequate definition, but isn’t quite enough to describe how the word is used in most poetry.
But a quick tangent about the discussion of “momentum”. I tend to use the term “lucidity” to mean the opposite of the automated way that we normally chew through our time. I probably got into the habit from Camus, but dreaming versus lucid dreaming is the easiest metaphor for the way we live our lives: mostly automatic, sometimes lucid.
Since you can often remember moments in hindsight which were not experienced lucidly, and such moments are normally not called “moments” when we’re being poetic, I suppose we need an extra level of specificity. So let’s just say that “moments” we talk about are usually the moments that move us; the moments we memorialize for good or for bad.
Speaking of the question about “how do you get snapped out of the sleep/momentum into lucidity?”, that’s the big question of my life. I’ve grown to feel that lucidity is overrated. We only want lucidity when we vaguely notice that we’re going in a bad direction. Habit and routine are good things when we’re doing good. Being able to snap out of bad momentum is just as tricky as being able to set oneself on good momentum. It brings to mind a couple of song lyrics.
From “Long December”:
“All at once you look across a crowded room and see the way that light attaches to a girl … how many times I’ve told myself to hang onto these moments as they pass”.
And from “Close to You”:
“I wouldn’t call it time well spent
Repeating to myself again
Find comfort in an endless stream of moments
I don’t even care, about the way I feel today
Because it changes anyway
Something will make me cry or smile
Another picture on my pile”
I thought Bro Rabbit was onto something too, but then he started wingeing about “pinatas,” whatever those are.
But you’re not saying anything different by saying they’re lucid. What makes us more conscious of these moments? You’ve stopped there.
And perhaps your conclusion is right. I’ve found there is something in these moments one wants to understand and they tend to excite attempts at poetry, which is why it led me to theorize that what happens is that somehow we become aware of form at those times—form in a sequence of events, for that one tries to gaze at through a poem that brings it into focus again. To me it is very mysterious, almost like I’ve stumbled onto a new–for me previously unidentified–set of forms.
Unknowing 
Isn’t it kinda like a twinkling of an eye? And I heard some preacher say GE measured a twinkling of an eye and it’s like 1/40th of a second.
That is a moment, but that is not every moment. If every moment passed with the same mechanical precision, we wouldn’t have the better moments.
So it can’t be a quantity that makes a moment. At least not exclusively.
What is the quality that makes them?
Blindfolded stab:
It is when the momentum of life is paused and is memorable for good or ill.
That I like.
What makes the momentum of life pause that way?
Sometimes it is so much as the philosophical act, but sometimes not. I think it is just the memorableness of the thing. With momentum there comes a bit of monotony that lulls the mind to sleep. It is the waking from that lull that is a moment.
That aint no answer. “The memorableness of the thing makes it pause that way.” What makes it memorable? Waking up to what?
This pinata keeps moving!
Bro Rabbit,
Don’t try to sideswipe the issue. What’s your position on the KJV?
Wikipedia says that it’s 1/40th of an hour in medieval units, or 5/114th of a second in the Hebrew calendar. And it’s also an important concept in Physics.
But I think lilrabbi is onto something with the “memorableness”. At the very least, the moments that you didn’t remember wouldn’t contribute to your definition of “moment”.
A “moment” is a discrete unit. It’s the shortest unit of time that a person can relate from memory without having to say, “and then” (because that would be stringing multiple moments together). The best remembered moments might require a tremendous amount of language to relate faithfully, but still would never use “and then”. This is probably a technically adequate definition, but isn’t quite enough to describe how the word is used in most poetry.
But a quick tangent about the discussion of “momentum”. I tend to use the term “lucidity” to mean the opposite of the automated way that we normally chew through our time. I probably got into the habit from Camus, but dreaming versus lucid dreaming is the easiest metaphor for the way we live our lives: mostly automatic, sometimes lucid.
Since you can often remember moments in hindsight which were not experienced lucidly, and such moments are normally not called “moments” when we’re being poetic, I suppose we need an extra level of specificity. So let’s just say that “moments” we talk about are usually the moments that move us; the moments we memorialize for good or for bad.
Speaking of the question about “how do you get snapped out of the sleep/momentum into lucidity?”, that’s the big question of my life. I’ve grown to feel that lucidity is overrated. We only want lucidity when we vaguely notice that we’re going in a bad direction. Habit and routine are good things when we’re doing good. Being able to snap out of bad momentum is just as tricky as being able to set oneself on good momentum. It brings to mind a couple of song lyrics.
From “Long December”:
“All at once you look across a crowded room and see the way that light attaches to a girl … how many times I’ve told myself to hang onto these moments as they pass”.
And from “Close to You”:
“I wouldn’t call it time well spent
Repeating to myself again
Find comfort in an endless stream of moments
I don’t even care, about the way I feel today
Because it changes anyway
Something will make me cry or smile
Another picture on my pile”
I thought Bro Rabbit was onto something too, but then he started wingeing about “pinatas,” whatever those are.
But you’re not saying anything different by saying they’re lucid. What makes us more conscious of these moments? You’ve stopped there.
And perhaps your conclusion is right. I’ve found there is something in these moments one wants to understand and they tend to excite attempts at poetry, which is why it led me to theorize that what happens is that somehow we become aware of form at those times—form in a sequence of events, for that one tries to gaze at through a poem that brings it into focus again. To me it is very mysterious, almost like I’ve stumbled onto a new–for me previously unidentified–set of forms.