There are times when your brain, your body, your very soul is on fire. This happens when you try to think about just how much there is to do and see and say in this world. All the wondrous things other people seem to be doing — on Facebook, on Instagram — and just how small your life seems in comparison. So you decide to do it all yourself, to say yes to it all:
“Yes! I will write, I will create a podcast, yes I will make that app and start that company, I’ll be an entrepreneur, and learn to program, yes I’ll travel to Bali, and I’ll travel to Nicaragua and I’ll travel even more, and I’ll take hundreds of photographs without a filter that nevertheless look filtered, I’ll write the book, and the other book, I’ll climb the corporate ladder, and be the boss of a company, I’ll have a beach body, and I’ll become an influencer, a Silicon Valley guru, I’ll open up a yoga studio, I’ll have a cooler life than all the Instagram people, and eat all the superfood in the world, I’ll read a hundred books a year, and I’ll do it all, I’ll do it all, I swear, you’ll see, I have to do it, others are doing it, or I’ll feel like…like what?“
Like you’re running out of time?
But…why? Yes, each breath we take takes us one step closer to the grave, but that’s not it, is it?
The world is a pomegranate and each seed a universe in itself. There is so much to do, to see, to try, but so little time. Hence we run, we race, we elbow each other and strive for the first place. The winner takes is all, the entire pie, leaving less and less for those of us who need a retry. Life is a zero-sum game, isn’t it? More for me means less for you.
Of course, that’s not true — as long as we don’t agree to it. There is a different way, a wiser path that teaches, shelters, and nourishes with each step.
That path is the path of enough. The path of choosing what to stick to and what to let go of. This world is a pomegranate, but a pomegranate too big for your jaws no matter how wide you can open them. You can eat any one of the seeds, any two, any three, but not all of them — no matter how much you fight for it, no matter how much you run for it. You cannot stuff it all down your gully.
It’s not a problem; it’s a blessing. If you could have everything, you’d value nothing. Stop running. Yes, you are running out of time. We all are, but don’t make that an excuse to waste said time rushing from A to B to C to Death by touching on a thousand different things, like a butterfly pollinating a thousand flowers. Slow down.
When you slow down, time slows down, too. Suddenly, there’s enough of it to do anything you want, provided you don’t try to do everything. Choose one thing, two, or three, and relinquish the rest.
You are running out of time only if you keep on running. Feel the depth of the world rush in through your eyes, your ears, your skin, through the very soles of your feet.