why do I write like I'm running out of time?
reflections on turning 25.
I turned 25 less than two months ago.
I don’t remember what it’s called, but at the moment, I’m thinking of that phenomenon where humans tend to look for patterns out in nature because we like to group things into categories that we can understand.
So, we see faces in the clouds, and whatnot.
I’m thinking of this because, for some reason, in reflecting on turning 25, I felt the need to try to approach that number in some way to find meaning in the chaos.
So, “25” — All I need to do is exist for this amount of time at least two more times, and I’ll (statistically) start looking at dying of old age soon. Two more times. I just have to live this amount of life two more times, and I’ll be 75. I wondered what that would be like. How will I feel being at the precipice of the end of my life?
Now, this is cheating, I know. “Two more times” sounds imminent, but we’re talking about 50 years here. So, it’s not soon, but it still felt jarring for some reason.
“I’m running out of time.” I thought.
“But”, I replied to myself, “running out of time to do what?”
To think more thoughts, to write more words, to say more things that might matter to someone somewhere?
I don’t know.
I do feel like I’m running out of time, though, truth be told.
Yet, I still don’t know what that means.
I’m grateful— eternally, immensely grateful — for everything I have been able to do in these 25 years.
I’ve adopted strong opinions on things, I’ve abandoned some of them, I’ve played around with every idea that’s crossed my path, I’ve immersed myself in different cultures, I’ve debated difficult topics, I’ve walked away from debates, I’ve found lifelong friends in the most unlikely places, I’ve changed my mind on important things, I’ve (apparently) changed the minds of others on important things, I’ve devoted myself to music— one of the most beautiful things there is— It’s brought me too many experiences to name, and I could go on.
Yet, what’s next?
You know, I appreciate our generation. As Gen-Z-ers, we’re good at making meta-analyses of the world we experience around us. Yet, I want to put such analyses to the side for a moment and speak earnestly.
I say this because one could read my question, “what’s next?” and see it as some sort of capitalistic impulse to always be productive, and to always grind. This is a bad impulse, some people say, because we must learn to “be present”. We must learn that it’s okay not to spend time thinking about what’s next. One needn’t feel pressure to always perform for the machine — so the thought goes.
Now, I’m not opposed to this train of thought and, indeed, I know people who would benefit from this advice. And, I’m a fan of advocating for and practising being present. But sometimes, I fear that there are moments where these words are empty to me.
I don’t want to perform to oil the wheels of the capitalist machine. But I do want to act, to work, to think, to write, to stress myself out, to enter into the flow state as often as I can. Sometimes (and, I can’t stress this enough— sometimes—) “being present” be damned. “Rest” be damned. Feeling that you’re not running out of time be damned.
In the flow state, when passions are high and the soul is ignited, “rest” is quicksand, and “the present” is the only thing stopping you from the future when the seeds nurtured during your flow state can exist in the world and stand beside you as things you created.
(Did I mention sometimes, yet?)
But this state of being arises for me because I love what I do. I love the work that I surround myself with. And I feel— for no justifiable reason — like I’m running out of time to do it.
“To do what, exactly?”
That question remains.
Some of you might know— I’m something of a utopian at heart.
There are some moral/political reasons for this, and I’d be happy to expand on them some other day.
But, in an existentialist sense, it seems worth asking: “What does this mean for me?”
Well,
It means I’m nostalgic for places I’ve never been to before.
It means, though I don’t dream often, I daydream constantly.
It means I long for things I know do not exist.
It means I stare at horizons a lot.
I stare at sunsets and am humbled at the thought that tomorrow truly is only a day away.
Yet, it never ends, does it?
Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the same room as Angela Davis? Well, she told us all about how freedom is not a place, it’s a process. In every age, we discover new ways to be free, and new forms of unfreedom we need to overcome.
We don’t get there. We simply continue the process.
Sisyphus, perhaps?
Well, if this is true, then two lifetimes from now, as I begin to stare into the eyes of the other side, I suppose I’ll feel the same way — like I’m running out of time. With much left to do.
Death truly is the great equaliser, isn’t it?
For those who rest, those who work, those who are present, those who are frantic, those who feel like they’re running out of time, those who feel like they have all the time in the world— death meets them all.
For Hamilton, who rhymes intensely, for Eliza, who sings longingly— the end arrives all the same.
Well, maybe not all the same.
But that just might be a story for another day.
Epilogue.
Behold, an excerpt from Plutarch’s Life of Pyrrhus in The Parallel Lives1:
…Cineas, then, who, seeing that Pyrrhus was eagerly preparing an expedition at this time to Italy, and finding him at leisure for the moment, drew him into the following discourse. "The Romans, O Pyrrhus, are said to be good fighters, and to be rulers of many warlike nations; if, then, Heaven should permit us to conquer these men, how should we use our victory?" 3 And Pyrrhus said: "Thy question, O Cineas, really needs no answer; the Romans once conquered, there is neither barbarian nor Greek city there which is a match for us, but we shall at once possess all Italy, the great size and richness and importance of which no man should know better than thyself." After a little pause, then, Cineas said: "And after taking Italy, O King, what are we to do?" 4 And Pyrrhus, not yet perceiving his intention, replied: "Sicily is near, and holds out her hands to us, an island abounding in wealth and men, and very easy to capture, for all is faction there, her cities have no government, and demagogues are rampant now that Agathocles is gone." "What thou sayest," replied Cineas, "is probably true; but will our expedition stop with the taking of Sicily?" 5 "Heaven grant us," said Pyrrhus, "victory and success so far; and we will make these contests but the preliminaries of great enterprises. For who could keep his hands off Libya, or Carthage, when that city got within his reach, a city which Agathocles, slipping stealthily out of Syracuse and crossing the sea with a few ships, narrowly missed taking? And when we have become masters here, no one of the enemies who now treat us with scorn will offer further resistance; there is no need of saying that." 6 "None whatever," said Cineas, "for it is plain that with so great a power we shall be able to recover Macedonia and rule Greece securely. But when we have got everything subject to us, what are we going to do?" Then Pyrrhus smiled upon him and said: "We shall be much at ease, and we'll drink bumpers, my good man, every day, and we'll gladden one another's hearts with confidential talks." 7 And now that Cineas had brought Pyrrhus to this point in the argument, he said: "Then what stands in our way now if we want to drink bumpers and while away the time with one another? Surely this privilege is ours already, and we have at hand, without taking any trouble, those things to which we hope to attain by bloodshed and great toils and perils, after doing much harm to others and suffering much ourselves."
vibes est vida, my friends.
This translation—-https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Plutarch/Lives/Pyrrhus*.html
beautiful, as always. happy belated birthday.
Happy belated birthday my man, great and relatable piece. Let’s not waste our shot