Life Has Its Limits After All
How a lifetime shrinks in the span of history.
I’ve been reading about the Sumerian empire, you know, the place called the cradle of civilization, at its height about seven thousand years ago.
Seven thousand years — wow! I think about how many generations of humans have lived and died since then and my perspective on life implodes, my 80-to-90-year lifespan reduced to a blip.
At 66, I feel the limits of human life deep in my bones, in my joints as I twist and turn to get comfortable in my bed at night. But I no longer fear the end of life as I may have in my 40s and 50s, a time when I was racing, trying to escape the feeling that I wasn’t doing enough.
Now I feel calm and accept that a limited lifespan is uavoidable, the fate of all of humankind. I can look at life practically, seeing it as you would a play with a beginning, middle and end. Ultimately the curtain will fall.
I wish I had had this attitude 30 years ago, when my passions, loves and disappointments distracted me from making the most of every moment I had. I wanted to change the world, make a difference, have an impact — and I would get frustrated when things didn’t always turn out that way.
Now I still want to make a difference but my expectations are scaled down. I may not change “The World” but I can…
