Like a floating kaleidoscope adrift in the ocean, patches of light dapple the sea floor amidst swaying seagrass in a vibrant meld of green, blue, and beige. Schools of fish flit through crevices in the rocks, while ghostly rays glide gracefully above the water, casting shadows on the mudflats where crabs hunt for scattered fragments. Overseeing all, the octopus observes through elliptical eyes, like a streamlined spaceship silently navigating the endless waters.
As a unique eight-armed cephalopod, the octopus stands out among marine creatures with its distinctive appearance and movements. It can freely swim in all directions underwater: sometimes like a shape-shifting dancer, other times like a hidden sniper. The octopus can naturally alter its streamlined body shape at will, stretch its tentacles over rocks, or thread through crevices to ambush its prey from hiding.
When hunting, the octopus might stealthily extend one or two tentacles like traps or engage in hunting with its whole body as a fisherman casts his net. Despite its ease in marine life, it retains an almost extraterrestrial otherness compared to terrestrial creatures. With three hearts, eight flexible tentacles, and a body of soft, boneless structure, it resembles a creature out of science fiction.
This peculiar being is both a master of natural camouflage and has incredible escape skills. Once sensing danger, the octopus can jet away quickly, squeezing through any gap larger than its beak with a body as pliable as rubber.
The octopus has a near-panoramic field of vision with eyes positioned on either side of its head, allowing almost no blind spots in the ocean. These unique abilities create a one-of-a-kind connection with its surroundings, seemingly unbound and free.
In comparison, we humans, as the octopus’s far-off cephalopod relatives, are met with more physiological limitations, lacking the seamless mobility and broad vision of such creatures. Our gaze is directed forward, we walk on two legs, confined to unidirectional movement, and must struggle with gravity on land. There is a fundamental difference between us and the octopus in terms of spatial and temporal perception. Our understanding of time is largely based on the experience of unidirectional movement in space, and nearly all our metaphors about time are built upon our forward-moving embodiment in the world.
From this perspective, if we could move and observe freely in three dimensions like the octopus, would our understanding of time also transcend the metaphors of unidirectional spatial movement to experience time in a multi-dimensional and free-flowing way? As linguistics research reveals, our discussions and metaphors about time are closely related to bodily experiences, leading us to ponder whether our directional bodily structure also limits the way we perceive and contemplate the world.
Our visionOur understanding of time“Self-movement”“The Flow of Time”affects our choice of these two metaphorsthe perspective of self-movementthe perspective of time passingIndividuals experiencing more progression tend to feel themselves moving through timethis adaptabilitycultural contextTime metaphors are not fixed and immutable
Octopuses are a marvel of marine life, known for their distinct body structure and exceptional intelligence. Unlike other creatures, the soft-body structure of octopuses allows them to move freely in any direction, which is quite rare in the animal kingdom.
Scientists have long been interested in the learning, memory, problem-solving, and cognitive abilities displayed by octopuses. Cephalopods, including octopuses and squids, have become the focus of study due to their remarkable sensory abilities. The intelligence of octopuses is thought to be the result of convergent evolution, meaning that while their intelligence appears similar to humans in some ways, it has actually evolved independently. The common ancestor shared by both might have been a flatworm living about 600 million years ago in the ocean, vastly different from the complex neural structures of modern octopuses or humans.
By studying the octopus’s intelligence mechanisms through replicating different aspects of human intelligence, scientists can explore the cognitive processes. However, this approach may have its biases. Perhaps instead of asking whether octopuses can display characteristics of human intelligence, we should explore whether humans are capable of displaying characteristics of octopus intelligence, especially in the way we think about time.
There’s reason to believe that octopuses do indeed think about time in their way. Evidence from careful observation of octopus behavior supports this idea, showing that octopuses are capable of a form of ‘mental time travel,’ which is the ability to recall past events and predict future scenarios.
One piece of evidence for octopuses’ ability to look back is that they avoid returning immediately to sites where they have recently been successful in hunting. This suggests octopuses know those places are unlikely to yield prey again soon. After a successful hunt, octopuses decide whether to eat nearby or return to their den based on the distance, showing that they make decisions through anticipation.
The exceptional navigational skills of octopuses support their ability to ‘time-travel’ in their minds. Even when strong currents displace them from their dens, with no visual references, octopuses can still find their way home by recognizing landscape features on the ocean floor and combining past experiences to construct cognitive maps.
The octopus’s ability to think about the future is demonstrated in species like the veined octopus, found in tropical waters off Indonesia. These octopuses have been observed carrying coconut shell halves as they move across exposed seabeds. When threatened, they quickly assemble the halves to form a temporary shelter, indicating they can anticipate potential risks and take precautions.
The behavior is striking for two reasons. First, it indicates the use of tools, a hallmark of cognitive complexity. Second, it shows that octopuses can mentally “anticipate,” simulating future scenarios, such as the possibility of predation when exposed on the seafloor. We fasten seat belts not because a car accident is happening, but because we can mentally “anticipate” and simulate the possibility of a crash, prompting us to take protective measures now. It is evident that, these clues strongly suggest the octopus’s ability to mentally represent time.
However, how exactly do octopuses represent time? If human temporal metaphors stem from embodied interactions with our surroundings, then we could speculate on the metaphors used by octopuses. Capable of naturally manipulating objects in front of and behind themselves, octopuses, in metaphorical terms, might have the same manipulability with past and future. Expressions like “leave the past behind us” might not make sense to an octopus. Octopuses also have the ability to change their perspective on their environment by swimming upwards, examining events in time—the past, present, and future—could all be observed from a metaphorical wide-angle viewpoint, identifying patterns over longer spans of time.
If we adopt the octopus’s view of time, our relationship with the past could become more meaningful. This relationship could lead to a causally connected past and present, reducing cultural influences on us, and easing the blind pursuit of future-oriented progress. This concept could pry open the doors to history as a wellspring of innovation, touching fields from medicine to politics. Such an unconstrained temporal metaphor could also elevate the significance we attribute to life events to a more macroscopic level.
One way to realize this idea is by understanding how we narrate our life experiences. According to narrative psychologists, a stable sense of self depends on weaving life experiences into a coherent story. Those affected by trauma might experience a narrative rupture, leading to dissociative identity disorder. Treating this disorder involves flexible travel between past and future—akin to the movement of octopuses—first rebuilding the fragmented sense of self, followed by focusing on an ideal future self.
Cultural theorists also discuss dissociative identity disorder phenomena during large-scale trauma events like wars, at a societal level. Carl Jung noted that the Germans facing collective guilt for the crimes committed during WWII was pivotal to moving towards a freer future. Similarly, contemporary authors like Ta-Nehisi Coates focus on the injustices experienced by African Americans throughout history, proposing that acknowledging and rectifying historical wrongs is the only way forward to address racial inequalities.
Adopting an unrestricted octopus-like view of time, past achievements could also become a source of innovation. For instance, the modern democratic system is a response and reenactment of ideas from the Greeks two thousand years ago. Furthermore, focusing on past events and transforming them into meaningful memories can alleviate the achievement-oriented anxiety shaped by society, which is also the cause of the widespread experience of burnout identified by authors like Han Byung-Chul.
Although it is important to focus on the present, much like an octopus concentrating while waiting to hunt, we can still draw inspiration from these intelligent marine creatures about thinking of events that transcend time. The behavior of octopuses offers a new temporal metaphor, prompting us to consider how to break free from the constraints of time. While the differences in existence between octopuses and humans seem insurmountable, research into the metaphors of time in different human cultures reveals that some human concepts of time bear a striking resemblance to the free-flowing nature of octopuses.
The life of an octopus mother is filled with dedication. She tirelessly incubates her eggs, working to protect these fragile lives from predators and carefully stimulates water flow to ensure they receive enough oxygen. Over time, as she devotes herself to this process, her body begins to show signs of degeneration, her skin loses its luster, her weight drops dramatically, and her muscles weaken.
This great maternal sacrifice usually culminates in death about five months after laying eggs. During this period, she almost never leaves her precious eggs, nor does she feed. Meanwhile, the lifespan of a male octopus is even shorter, ending within a few weeks after mating.
For octopuses, the rationale behind this one-off reproduction strategy is that as adults, their competition for survival resources may threaten their own offspring, and may even lead to their starvation. More brutally, octopuses can be cannibalistic by nature, which includes the consumption of their own young.
Faced with multiple objectives for survival, each species must make its own trade-offs. Octopuses choose to sacrifice their own lives to ensure the survival of their offspring, a sacrifice that reminds us of other creatures with one-off reproduction traits, such as salmon and cicadas.
In their attitudes towards life, time, and death, octopuses could not be more different from humans. When it comes to reproduction or caring for offspring, we are often filled with hope and anticipation for the future, rather than a sense of impending death. For octopuses, however, their existence is a silent symphony, turning their entire being into the mission of perpetuating their species.
With this life trajectory, octopuses challenge our traditional conceptions of time and death and also showcase the fluidity and diversity of cosmic existence. Their death is not an end but a part of the intergenerational transfer of life, as if to suggest that death for an octopus is merely a flowing prologue.
Even if we cannot fully understand the octopus’s perspective on time and death, their free-flowing state of existence between life and death can still enlighten and inspire us. Studies suggest that viewing time as a cycle can help people recover more quickly from the loss of loved ones. Similarly, for patients facing death, the fluidity of time can help them better accept care from caregivers.
We might ask ourselves whether humans could also navigate through time as freely as octopuses move through the sea. If we could maintain an equally clear understanding of the past, present, and future, perhaps we could face the ups and downs of life more serenely. At this moment, we may set aside our stubbornness about life’s end, and instead view it as an intergenerational journey of flow.
In other words, guided by different concepts of time, we can experience a novel, more flexible, and free journey of life. If we can discard the boundaries that define life and death, the barriers between us will naturally fade away. In the boundless ocean of time, each one of us is a voyager within it.
