Time

It’s coming for you.

renderedIn 2017 we have a technology and a science dedicated to beating time. At Wired 2011, Richard Seymore said, “The first person to live for a thousand years is possibly already alive.” I don’t want to live that long.

Besides being the pitch for a decent sci-fi novel, living for one thousand years is probably not a great idea. Considering the current state-of-affairs, humans aren’t smart enough to live that long and make it work. And let’s not forget the science that embraced plastic surgery as a means of fighting time, of postponing aging, of looking young again. Face it (no pun intended), the early adopters of this science look like monsters. Even now it’s obvious who’s “had work done”. The current trend to stave off time is supplements: watch Transcendent Man — a documentary about Ray Kurzweil’s theory on merging with technology. We are trying to outsmart time because we are afraid of death.

I’m afraid of death, but not my own.

I was terrified after the birth of our first child because I had to contemplate her death. That’s how my mind operates. Four years later, my son got sick in-utero. We were told by a specialist that his chance for life was slim. We became obsessed with time. Doctor appointments, sleepless nights, wondering how the baby was doing with each painful passing moment — time seemed to slow down for us.

I’m 44, about halfway to the end. I’m running out of my cherished time. It’s why I started this blog, why I started writing my novel, why I slow down to hug my kids a little longer and why I stop to give my wife an extra-long kiss and tell her she’s great. Time will eventually take everything from me  — it just will. My kids will grow, leave the nest and someday one of them will get the call that I have had a stroke or a heart attack or died in my sleep (the last being my most preferable way to go). In the meantime, I take care of my health. Even though time doesn’t care what I think, what I want or need, I still must try to live a rich and full life. It’s a conundrum, like folding laundry — why fold it if I’m just going to unfold it and wear it again? Why be healthy if I’m just going to die anyway?

Time is a villain to all of those who fight it, but they can’t win. Time’s coming.

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