Seneca, one of the most revered stoics of all time, said in his famous writing, On the Shortness of Life: You squander time as if you drew from a full and abundant supply, though all the while that day which you bestow on some person or thing is perhaps your last. You have all the fears of mortals and all the desires of immortals.
You will hear many men saying: “After my fiftieth year I shall retire into leisure, my sixtieth year shall release me from public duties.” And what guarantee, pray, have you that your life will last longer? Who will suffer your course to be just as you plan it? Are you not ashamed to reserve for yourself only the remnant of life, and to set apart for wisdom only that time which cannot be devoted to any business? How late it is to begin to live just when we must cease to live! What foolish forgetfulness of mortality to postpone wholesome plans to the fiftieth and sixtieth year, and to intend to begin life at a point to which few have attained!”
This year, there have been major losses of life, and I’ve lost a few people that I know. Some close, some, not so much, but it hurt. It’s human life, y’know? Death has been on my mind lately, well, not because of people who’ve passed on, but just the thought of mortality makes me think. I let my mind run wild on the inevitability of the grim reaper coming forth at some point in my life and while the thought of eventually dying doesn’t scare me, at least for now, the responsibility to live, does.
See, as Seneca said, most of us squander time as if we tap from an unending well that ensures we can go back and drink life, again. While some activities and people make us feel alive, are we really living? I’ve postponed calls, text messages, going out dancing, meeting up with family and friends, reading, making the cup of coffee… Why? Something else came up or I avoided it altogether. I postpone having my version of fun because I’m supposed to be doing something productive. Now, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be productive, or work, but you shouldn’t wait until your 50 or into the glorious 60 to tap into your leisurely activities.
What then, remains of my mortal life?
Hope!
I hope to carefully live with reckless abandon, and enjoy the highs, lows, and flat-line moments of the rollercoaster we call life.
I hope to create artwork that will live long after I’m gone, not that it’s the end goal, but because creating makes me happy. It makes me feel alive.
I hope the people around me, and you reading this, get to live within the confines of what your brain allows you to experience and go all the way to be present. Be present in every single thing. It might be the last time you’re doing it. Don’t be scared, though, it’s inevitable.
I hope the people who’ve passed on and left us with the memories, got to live to the best of their abilities. For themselves. Life experiences are personal and I hope they did much of living as possible.
I hope that at the end of it all, I’ll look back and say “I lived.” That I enjoyed my borrowed time and made the most out of my mortality.
I HOPE!
BD254 