Friday, November 30, 2012
by Lori Deschene
“Begin at once to live and count each separate day as a separate life.” ~Seneca
At times, it’s seemed as though life contains an endless supply of days.
When I was younger, I thought this for sure. It didn’t matter how long I held a grudge, or how long I waited to do something I wanted—there would be an unlimited pool of other opportunities. At least that’s what I thought back then.
Maybe it’s a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood: the moment when you realize life happens now, and that’s all you’re guaranteed. It doesn’t really hit you when you merely know it intellectually, like you know your ABCs, state capitals, and other concrete facts.
It hits you when somehow you feel it. Your health declines. You lose someone you love. A tragedy rocks your world. It isn’t until you realize that all life fades that you consider now a commodity and a scarce one at that.
But maybe that’s irrelevant. Maybe living a meaningful, passionate life has nothing to do with its length and everything to do with its width."
This sounded so true to me. That you don't start appreciating life or living it until you see that life has started without you and isn't waiting for you.