Something about feeling caught up in the irreversible drive into the expanding possibilities of time. Something like that William Blake poem about holding infinity in the palm of your hand, eternity in an hour. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43650/auguries-of-innocence …
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I forget where I read/watched the idea portrayed, but mortality is actually what allows us to appreciate the ideas of eternity and infinity. An actual eternal being would not appreciate it. Kinda like how you never go to the tourist spots in your own town unless you have visitors
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This take for associating with trigger gives "throb" as in primordial throb, called spanda in Kashmiri Shaivism (from a random Wikipedia nugget that intrigued me long ago)
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