Is our one life really that short?
Why is Seneca smart-talking us on how much we squander our life on earth? What’s the fuss about Steven Pressfield urging us to bring forth our creation, otherwise we’re doing a huge disservice to humanity? Why does Tim Ferriss show us we can be good enough in 6 months, not in a decade?
There’s this weird thing about a random quiet downtime where you see birds flying and suddenly you’re struck with thoughts of what on earth you’re here for. Welcoming the sudden preoccupation, I mull over why I’m at a certain place doing a certain thing with certain people. I think of what I’ve done and what more I haven’t. The latter bugs me.
It’s not surprising they were results of the decisions we make. In my mind, I could have been someplace else. In my fantasy-greased mind, my alter ego is instead bequeathed with a quill and cloak, traversing the world with excited eyes.
But I’m in the real world with real circumstances. The days stretch for a long time when we’re bored or only when we desperately want it to end, but most days, I realized, are short. Sometimes I feel a gut punch for squandering a big part of it, and I’ll continue to be unless I hold dear that one short shtick I have.
Maybe wielding that shtick is often difficult; perhaps that’s why we feel the most resistance to it. Because it’s important, our guts tell us it has to be done. It could be the very thing that will make us most alive yet we can instantly extinguish it with irrational fears and excuses.
However, when we change our minds and realize it’s not deadly at all but actually crucial to our existence, we can start going to that sacred place, light that short shtick and make it count for more.