Benjamin Franklin once wrote, “If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading, or do things worth writing.”
But how do you write things worth reading in a world where so few people are reading anymore?
Most of what is on the Internet is video and garbage. It’s not worth watching. Yet that’s the medium that we consume.
Perhaps the modern equivalent is to do things worth making a TikTok reel about.
Old Ben must be rolling in his grave.
Not tomorrow. Not Monday. Not on New Year’s Day.
Right now.
There will always be another tomorrow to which you’ll be tempted to push it.
Until there isn’t.
The average human lifespan is about 80 years these days. That’s 4,160 weeks.
I got curious as to the percentage of my life I had left. So I did the math.
At 33 years old, I’ve lived about 1,716 weeks. If I’m lucky enough to make it to 80, I’ve already lived through 41% of my life.
That realization brought to mind an image of the battery icon at the top of my iPhone.
If I had that same icon floating over my head, I’d only have a 59% charge remaining before I died. And I can’t recharge…
Memento mori. Remember, you will die.
Use that as fuel to live well. Work and act accordingly.
Or return the call if you want to have them on voicemail.
We forget that one of those missed calls will be the last one we ever get from them.
If you recognize the number, it’s a good idea to pick up.
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The Stoics have a practice known as memento mori. It translates (loosely) to “remember you will die.”
I’ve thought of death just about every day that I can remember since I began to understand it as the ultimate destination of life.
But it became more real to me when I fell in love and got married. Because I realized a bittersweet truth:
I signed up for devastating grief.
My marriage was, eventually, going to end in death, either my own or my wife’s.***
And that’s a sobering thought. But it also serves as a constant reminder of just how wonderful love is. You can’t have one without the other.
All love, eventually, ends in sadness.
Teenagers break up. Adults get married, then someone dies… Or leaves. Family members lose each other slowly… Or sometimes all at once.
Ultimately, love ends because life ends.
But maybe that’s why it’s such a powerful element. Because we willingly dive headfirst into it knowing that it will end in the most painful way possible. One way or another.
I never really voiced this thought out loud until I came across this quote from Nick Cave:
“It seems to me, that if we love, we grieve. That’s the deal. That’s the pact. Grief and love are forever intertwined. Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable.”
And it’s totally worth it.
***For those of you who say, “But your marriage could also end in divorce!”, you clearly don’t know Theresa or me. 🤣
Cherish your loved ones – they’ll be taken from you when you least expect it.
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I’ve lost three close family members in 18 months. My father-in-law dropped dead of heart failure in December 2019. He was in perfect health.
My uncle died of cancer 6 months later. I had just seen him at Thanksgiving the previous year, and he seemed to be doing just fine.
Then my dad died in May. I had just spoken with him on the phone a month before… He sounded just like his old self. By the time I got to see him, he couldn’t speak or see me. I was able to say goodbye, but I’ll never know if he heard me.
And I might be losing someone else soon.
Tell your family you love them after you finish reading this. Then do it every day from now on.
Serious illness—or even death—can strike you down no matter your age or health.
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My wife and I took the COVID-19 pandemic seriously. We quarantined, wore masks, and did all we were advised to do by the CDC. And both of us still managed to catch it.
My wife had a fever for eight days. I ended up in the ICU on forced oxygen for eight days gasping for breath. Wondering if this was what it felt like to die. The doctors told me had I not come in the night that I did, I would have died in my sleep.
I spent Christmas and New Year’s in a hospital room isolated and alone—except for the occasional nurse or technician. Eight days. And there were people around me even worse off than I was.
I was 30 years old and in perfect health. And I’m still recovering.
Never chase money – you’ll always end up miserable.
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I was in my sweet spot at a job I enjoyed—teaching classes all day and putting my creative skills to use on a daily basis. But I felt I wasn’t making enough money, so I took a promotion.
The money wasn’t as good as I thought it would be. And I wound up in a miserable role that stressed me out more than I could have ever imagined.
Then another offer came my way, a chance to escape that misery, and it came with a decent bump in pay. But I had an uneasy feeling about it during the interviews.
I took it anyway, and it left me just as miserable as I was before, but for different reasons.
It might be a cliche, but find something that makes you happy. Then find a way to make a living doing it. Don’t take jobs you know don’t fit you simply because they offer you more money.
Take any or all of these lessons to heart. Let them guide your actions for the last half of 2021 and beyond.
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What do you do when your parents die? When you become the adult?
Now you’re the spouse, the parent, the one who’s supposed to have all the answers.
When you’re young, your parents seem larger than life—superheroes who can swoop in and save the day. They’re wise sages who seem to have an answer to every problem in the world.
But as you grow up, you realize a poignant point: they’re just trying to figure things out as they go.
Just like you.
So what do you do when your parents finally leave this world?
You go on, just as they did, trying to figure things out as you go. And you make a lot of mistakes, just like they did.
But now things are just a little bit quieter, a little emptier. You feel just a bit…lonely.
Goodbye, Dad.
2020 sucks. That doesn’t need to be said anymore. But a post from a gentleman whom I follow on LinkedIn made me rather introspective this morning. Here was my response to his post.
2020 showed me that life was more uncertain and fragile than I’d ever realized. I lost two of my closest relatives. My family suffered unimaginable heartache.
I discovered I’d been living life out of fear, looking at everything through a lens of safety. So I started asking myself, “if I died tomorrow, would I be satisfied with what I’ve accomplished? Would I be okay with how I left things for my wife and family?”
With that mindset, I’ve approached my days differently, dancing with fear and taking action in the face of it. Making definite choices rather than hesitating or hedging my bets.
In short, I’m bolder.
As I’ve learned from Zig Ziglar, if I fail I learn. If I learn, I grow. If I grow, I succeed.
What about you? What has 2020 shown you? Comment below.
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You cannot move forward until you accept the reality of your current situation.
Things absolutely should be a certain way. Some people should still be alive.
But they aren’t.
Your current reality dictates what is possible in your future. But that realization equips you with a great power: the power to turn what you think should be into your future reality (to a certain extent. I’m in no way insinuating that you can bring back the dead).
Accept what is, then act accordingly.
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Adjusting to a new normal is…well, normal.
Most of the time, it is painful, difficult, frustrating, depressing, and hilarious – quite often all at once.
Face the new normal head-on with courage, kindness, and generosity.
It might not work out like you hope, but these qualities will still take you far.
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