I’m Grateful that I’m Getting Older
Time is my biggest source of stress.
It is entirely out of my control. As the clock tick-tick-ticks away my hours and days and months and years, so does my body and mind and potential change. Time feels precious and meagre, I am scared of its running out.
Despite this, I would not want it any other way.
Time is valuable because it is limited.
Anything that holds value is scarce.
Diamonds are rarer than rock; and close connections are irreplicable in their unique dynamic and personal significance. Likewise, time is a limited resource. Although some people have more leeway than others in deciding how many hours they spend outside of life’s mandatory responsibilities, all of us have one thing in common: the clock is always ticking toward death.
This is what makes time so valuable. In mythological and philosophical explorations of the divine and eternal, impermanence is often cherished by the ever-living and contemned by the mortal. In the eyes of the undying, life and its riches carry more meaning when it is known that it has an end.
Time is precious precisely because its misuse — its waste — actually matters.
Because in my heart, I know that I cannot get it back once it is lost.
Limited time increases focus.
This limitation comes with greater focus.
Knowing that time has its eventual end, my use of it has consequences. With time, there are stakes worth evading: the regret of having wasted it away, and the bygone opportunities of having a younger mind and body. Life ends for us all, but only those who did it well can look back and smile.
One day, I will not be able to move as I do now; I will not be able to work as I do now. Time will tear at my muscles and mind. I will have to use the few days I have now if I want to avoid the regret of having made the wrong choices.
I will have to prioritize the correct paths and create the life I want.
I will have to focus.
Aging makes room for development.
Improvement comes only from a commitment to such focus.
Sure, some maturation is a product of time and is outside of our control, like the changing structures of our brains and the acquisition of skills and knowledge. But most progress and change rests on our own shoulders. In order to develop physically, mentally, socially, and professionally, we must make a choice to use the time we have, and the focus we have garnered, to grow along the years that pass.
With eternity, I would have no motive or need to change. I would have all the time in the world, and any mistake or oversight or shortcoming on my part could be fixed at a later time. There would be no need to hurry.
But because I am aging every single second, I have an incentive to grow.
Every year matters, and every day means change.
Time is not the enemy — nor the savior.
Therefore, unlike most people, I do not wish that I had more time.
The reason most people want more, is that they feel like they are wasting what little they already have. “If only I had more time,” they say, “I would work toward my dreams, and I would be happy and free.” But the moment they are presented with an opportunity — a break from work or an early leave from school — they waste their hours and plead for more.
Some people do have their reasons: being left alone by passing lovers, or keeping three jobs simultaneously that erase any traces of spare time. But most people only make excuses, wanting to get the same amount of time that they are already wasting. For most people, the underlying issue and solution is not in their lack of focus and dedication to growth (which they can control); it is the fleeting passage of time (which they cannot).
In my mind, time is limited anyway. It progresses regardless of whether we choose to make progress too.
This is why I fear time so much.
But it is also why I appreciate that it will one day be gone.
