Can you guess what’s 4,000 weeks long? Yep, it’s the average human lifespan.
So you’re really going to tell me, I was born into this ginormous world, with a vast variety
of places, people, animals, art… and I won’t be able to experience even a fraction of it?
What kind of bullshit is that?
I was recently scrolling through classes to take at university looking for something within
writing or directing. I ended up with twenty plus tabs open. Nutritionist, dog trainer, gardener,
chef, interior designer, performer… I want to do and be all of those things. Or at least try them.
Let’s just say I was a difficult kid in this regard. I’m 27,
and I’m still a difficult kid who calls her mom at least once a week with a new idea or plan.
“Mom, should I backpack Europe? And I’ll bring Fred with me.”
“Mom, I think I’m applying to film school.”
“Mom, it’d probably be really cool being a real estate agent.”
I have a fear of not experiencing life as much as I can. I fear I’m taking life for granted.
What can I say? Life really excites me. I don’t remember the last time I was
bored. In fact, I’m often the opposite of bored. I’m overstimulated with all the things I want to
do at every given moment, and overwhelmed with the fact that I need to pick only one.
I’m curious. Perhaps too curious for my own good. Philosophies,
skills, causes… There’s always something to do or to learn about. So many lives to live.
I’m in constant awe of the fact that millions of years of evolution lead to me being here, at
this very moment. The odds of that happening was basically zero, for all of us, yet, here we are.
80 years, or 4,000 weeks, is the average human lifespan, if you're lucky, which is “absurdly,
terrifyingly, insultingly short” Oliver Burkman wrote in his book four thousand weeks.
Some people don’t have time to think about anything other than
surviving. Providing for themselves and for their families. What I’m
talking about today isn’t a problem, it’s just something I think about.
The reality is that we'll never be able to do it all here in life. No matter how much we schedule
and try to manage our time. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m having a hard time accepting that.
I sometimes wish I had the time turner Hermione had in the Prizoner of Azkaban;
the one that enabled her to take multiple classes at once.
If I had that time turner right now, I’d be sitting here, writing this,
while playing with my dog, while making myself a nice breakfast. My stomach’s growling.
I sometimes hate that life is a series of decisions, because
with everything we choose, we’re also choosing not to choose something else.
I think it partly stems from fear of commitment. Am I spending my time wisely? Am I prioritizing
the right things? Am I doing what matters and what’s meaningful? Am I pursuing the wrong thing?
We all want to make the best decisions for ourselves.
But the truth is that we don’t know the outcome of anything. Ever. We don’t know whether or
not we’ll be satisfied with the choices we make. We don’t know whether or not something
will make us happy or make us feel fulfilled. Not until we’ve done the damn thing, and by that time,
it might be too late, and we’re haunted by the words “what if I would’ve chosen differently?”
Life is a guessing game and we’re all just winging it hoping for the best outcome.
Sometimes, we’re afraid of making the wrong choice, we end up choosing nothing at all.
But that, too, is a choice.
How the hell does one navigate through all of this? Let’s talk about that.
(integration begins) (integration ends)
You know how you read a book, and in the book there's a reference to another book,
and so you look up that book, and through that, you find a new author, and through that author,
you find a different genre of books that looks interesting, and through that genre,
you find an article, and in that article, you come across a study, and through that study,
you come across a psychologist, and through that psychologist, you learn about a theory,
and now you want to explore that, and all the other steps that lead you to that point.
“Don’t go down the rabbit hole, don’t go down the rabbit hole” I tell myself.
Here’s what I’m trying to do about all of this.
Get rid of the idea that I can only do or be one thing
I’ll never be an astronaut, and I’ll never be a professional ballerina. But I can be
a writer, a good cook, have a beautiful home, dress nicely, be a good dog mom, learn
the piano, speak multiple languages, and become a decent gardener. I can create art. I can become a
better runner and perhaps a painter. I can be super outgoing when I want and crawl back into
my shell when I want. I can care about my appearance and still be smart. I can
talk about shallow stuff and still have depth. I don’t want to be boxed in. I don’t want labels.
I can’t become great at all of those things.
But I don’t think that’s what I want either. I just want to experience them. I’d feel content
having grown one lemon tree on my own; I don’t need a garden full of them. I don’t need to
be able to teach it to others. I just want to have gone through the process, at least once.
Realizing that I’m not trying to become an elite at everything is liberating somehow.
Practice being at peace with the fact that I won’t ever be able to do it all
We all want to be the perfect friend, sibling, daughter or son, employee,
boss, cook, homemaker, peacemaker, lover.
As David Allen wrote, "You can do anything, but not everything."
Sure I can train my dog for four hours a day and have him be the perfect dog who
heels by default and never pulls, but that would take away from time I spend on other things that
are important, too. Perhaps that means I’ll only have a decently well behaved puppy.
Perhaps if I spent two extra hours on these videos, they’d be more
cinematic and the storytelling more compelling, but those two hours are spent
cooking and tidying my home. Sure I could order in food instead and that would save me time, and so I
could spend that time on THIS instead. But cooking makes me happy, and so does having a clean home.
I’m practicing being ok with that sort of stuff, to be ok with the fact that…
I’ll never be at a point where I’m completely on top of everything.
What does balance look like to you? Does it look like juggling many times at once,
or doing one thing at a time?
Though it may look different for all of us, one thing I dare to assume we all have in common is
that we have an innate desire to enrich those four thousand weeks that we, on average, have.
Figuring out what that entails for US, is the hard part, I guess.