“Are you speeding?” my seven-year-old asked me the other day.
“No,” I responded (truthfully). “Going the speed limit.”
He paused.
“When do teenagers drive?”
Where is this one going? I wondered.
“You can get your driver’s license when you are 16 years old.”
He then responded, quite firmly, “Well I’m not going to do that.”
“No?” This fascinated me. Does the younger generation see the driver’s license rite-of-pass as far less interesting than I remember it?
“Why not?” I asked casually.
“Because it’s going too fast.”
“Yes, cars do go fast but you learn…” I responded, and as I trailed off to decide on what story from my early driving days I might tell, he spoke up again.
“No. I don’t want to get older so I’m not going to learn to drive.”
“Oh…” I said. “So it’s the years that are going too fast?”
“Yes.”
—
The same thing dawned on me rather early in life, too: This is fast!
I remember telling my mom something about how our family should not get a computer. People have never needed those things before!
I declared my luddite proclamation with fervor, mainly because the computer represented the life speed about which I already worried.
And now my seven-year-old is figuring it out and finding his own ways to press the brakes: If I don’t get a driver’s license, I will avoid the rite of passage and remain young! It’s humbling and heartbreaking hearing him recognize the speed of life and then try and figure out how to hold onto all of the good he enjoys right now.
Most of us have had these it’s going fast thoughts from time to time, but then we stuff them down lest we begin feeling overly sad, morbid, or regretful. Or, we make all kinds of purchases and lifestyle changes to press the breaks on aging… and, of course, death itself.
Some of this surely has its place, but also…
The single best way to navigate this impossibly fast life? Name the hard truth clearly.
Momento Mori as the ancients put it.1
Remember you must die is the English translation, and far from being a macabre practice, it is meant to help us remember this fundamental truth and live with a deeper, more inspired clarity and motivation.
Indeed, I picked up a time management book last year, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by British author and journalist Oliver Burkeman, in part because Adam Grant called it “the most important book ever written about time management,” and goodness me, who doesn’t need the best help available when it comes to prioritization, calendaring, and the ever-rushing reality called time? I surely do!
The very first paragraph of the book provides the foundational fact on which the rest of the book builds: the average lifespan of a human being is about 4000 weeks - or about 80 years of age.
Rather than offering new time management hacks, pointing us to better efficiencies, or giving us insider tricks on how to drive faster and further than everybody else on the road of life, Burkeman chooses to start by having us face the underlying, unspoken fear we all have: we will die.
Drawing from a plethora of ancient (and modern) wisdom, Burkeman believes this has a uniquely powerful ability to help us reorient our priorities and vitalize our productivity unto ends that truly matter - and in a Hope that extends beyond our lifetime, both for ourselves and others.2
In a week where we have had Halloween (Oct 31), All Saints Day (Nov 1), and Día de los Muertos/Day of the Dead (Nov 1 and 2) - let alone the many falling leaves - there is something eminently fitting about taking the time to have fresh clarity about the days we are given and how we live them.3
So, what do you say…
Are you speeding?
And toward what?
When you look back at your life in 5 years… what do you hope younger you would have embraced in this moment? Let go of in this moment?
Big questions, no doubt.
Maybe first…
Begin with a deep breath.
Then a word of thanks for the young voices and old voices of wisdom in your life.
Then perhaps some simple words giving voice to the desire growing within. Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom is how one ancient, ever-relevant prayer ascends (Psalm 90:12).
Sometimes I find that simple rhythm of breath-gratitude-petition becomes its own kind of slowing, receiving, and clarifying.
And also blessing.4
For now, time takes on a dimension of fullness that is its own gift - like we’ve finally set aside concerns about how far and wide we'll make it on our journey and instead discovered the profound beauty of savoring the depth of Life ever at hand.
This train of thought is found throughout Ancient Greek and Roman philosophy, especially among Stoics. Scriptures in the Old and New Testament also speak about the importance of ‘numbering our days.’
In her piece this week for The Atlantic, This Halloween, Let’s Really Think about Death, Elizabeth Bruenig wrote, “The fact of death ought to induce intentionality in our ways of living.”
In his widely acclaimed Seven Habits of Highly Effective People Stephen Covey writes that the second habit of such people is that they “begin with the end in mind.” This includes, he says, taking the time to consider what our eulogy will be so that we might live with a deeper intentionality regarding what truly matters.
This kind of time is what the ancients called kairos time - the ‘right’ or ‘opportune’ time. Unlike chronos (think ‘chronological’), kairos is time not marked by past, present, or future, but rather by such a sublime quality and depth that it was often understood that God’s very presence was being experienced. God interrupting. Meeting. Filling.
Beautiful writing! Love Leo’s comments, which reflect wisdom at a young age. You are an amazingly, gifted person that shows love and wisdom and will fulfill your journey with pride. God bless!
I love the reminder, Momento Mori. Thank you.
I’m curious as to your answer to the question you posed:
“When you look back at your life in 5 years… what do you hope younger you would have embraced in this moment? Let go of in this moment?”