We blog our ideas and thoughts and wonder if any of it really is unique. Am I guilty of plagiarizing something I heard years ago and simply forgot?
The Curse of Time is one such topic. There really isn’t much new to be said on the subject. At some point, words such as these exist as a warning to others, mostly younger than myself.
Time flies by more and more quickly as you age. All in a sudden you find yourself looking back. Making that first million dollars doesn’t seem too terribly meaningful any longer.
The first steps of a child, the first base hit, the first bike ride, the first time you met your wife. These are the real milestones that we fall back on.
The first company I took public, the largest sale I ever made, the first sports car, the first yacht or mega house. These are the milestones of many youth.
The concentration of achievement that centers around things and not people. This is the curse of time.
The 3rd child we never had. The college degree we never completed. The job risk we never took. The plane we never jumped out of. The nursing home we pushed Dad into. The love we never made when arguing was so much easier.
These are the type regrets we eventually face down the road.
I will say that for most of us, it’s never too late. “People over things” becomes our rallying cry. Emphasis on how we can help others versus the amount of junk we can accumulate. These are the actions that slow down the advance of time somewhat.
You never see a trailer hitch on a hearse. You can’t take it with you.
If depression is worrying about the past and anxiety is worrying about the future, what do we call what we are doing today? For all of you, I hope and pray it’s called Living with Purpose.
And, that purpose needs to be constantly evaluated, defined, refined, and perfected. And it needs to be centered on relationships and people first.
There’s nothing wrong with earning a great income and buying fun toys, homes and other such indulgences.
But I implore you to not let that take priority over the people who mean the most to you.
How will you be remembered when the sand in your hourglass finally runs out?