Measure your life in moments not years

Years are abstract, moments are concrete

My mom flew back home to Washington yesterday after visiting my wife and I in Texas for the past five days.

And it got me thinking about an essay called The Tail End written by one of my favorite writers Tim Urban.

Why do we measure our lives in years? Could it be more fun to measure them in moments? Or more depressing? Or both?

Let’s find out.

The average human life is 73 years.

But I’m no average human, I’m an American! So I can expect to live to the ripe old age of about 79 (we rank 47th — 10 spots behind New Caledonia). Where are all those “America’s #1!” chants now?

But I have no idea where you’re from so let’s stick with the world average of 73.

We’ve come to the collective agreement that we should measure our time on this planet in trips around the sun.

But that’s lame and is too abstract. So what if we spiced it up a bit and measured it in moments to make it more concrete?

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I’ll use myself as an example, because well, I’m selfish.

I’m 31 so I’ve got 42 springs left.

Or 42 new years eve kisses.

Which means I’ve only got 42 more college football seasons to watch my Georgia Bulldogs compete for some more rings.

But…

I never skip my morning coffee, so I’ve still got about 15,000 more caffeine spikes to enjoy.

I get into an argument with my wife once a week so that’s about 2,000 more misunderstandings we’ll get to have. And I can already predict all 2,000 of them will be my fault.

I make it a priority to play basketball once a week, so if my knees cooperate and I play for another 20 years, I’ve got about 1,000 more hoop sessions in my future.

I tell myself I like going to the beach, but in reality, I only go about once every five years. So I’ve got 8 more swims in the ocean where an ungodly amount of sand will find its way into my swim trunks.

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Now let’s flip this around.

I’ve only gotta do my taxes 42 more times.

I’ll only have to hear the gut-wrenching sound of my dentist drilling in my mouth 84 more times assuming I go every six months (not likely).

I used to hate reading with every fiber in my body but now I’m a voracious reader who devours a book a week. That means I’ve got about 2,000 more books to enjoy (still far fewer than I’d like).

I treat myself to a Dairy Queen blizzard once a month so I’ve got about 500 more tasty treats to savor. But I like Thai food even more so the 3 spring rolls I order twice a month means I’ve got about 3,200 more spring rolls to stuff into my mouth.

Obviously those numbers aren’t exact, but I know they’ll be directionally right.

It’s more fun and eye opening to measure our lives in moments not years.

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But that’s not my point.

What about the moments that aren’t spread out as evenly throughout our lives? Like relationships.

You and I have already spent about 95% of the time we’ll get with our parents by our 18th birthday. We go from spending practically every single day with our parents (often against our will) to no more than a couple days a year if you move away like I did.

My mom is 60 so she’s got 13 years left if she reaches the average lifespan. And she lives 1,000 miles away so we usually see each other twice a year for about five days each. 10 days a year.

That means I’ve only got 130 more hangouts with mom.

I see my grandparents even less and they’re already living on borrowed time. I should call them.

I used to barge into my siblings room (uninvited) at least once a day to annoy them when we lived in the same house. Those days are long gone.

I used to go over to my best friend David’s house four or five times a week when we lived in the same neighborhood. Now I only see him once a year. At least 90% of our hangouts are behind us.

Damn.

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Now what about you?

How many more meals will you get with mom and dad? How many more times will you get to chase your sister around the house while she screams with rage? How many more hangouts will you get with your best friend?

Less than you think.

This can be a depressing realization at first but it doesn’t have to be. Just becoming aware of it can be powerful.

It can make that next time you see your parents more meaningful. And maybe it’ll make you pause before you pick up your phone to start mindlessly scrolling when your mom is telling you a story about her childhood.

It’s easy to think there will be thousands more moments like that to come. There won’t.

Thankfully, none of these measures are set in stone. They are like dials that can be turned up or down as you wish.

The best news of all? If I continue to churn out one essay a week till I go into the deep sleep then I have about 2,000 more attempts to share an interesting idea with you.

PS - Do yourself a favor and read The Tail End.

Your thoughts? Please leave a reply below.

Photo by Ricardo Moura on Unsplash