Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Many times an old man has no other evidence besides his age to prove he has lived a long time.”
Seneca, On Tranquillity of Mind, 3.8b
When the end of things comes, and we ask ourselves what we have to show for the years, months, days, and hours we’ve spent on life, no one wants to list off a bunch of regrets and missed opportunities.
In the spirit of the Broadway musical Rent (or the original tale behind it, Puccini’s opera, La Bohème), how do we measure the time spent living our lives?
“In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?
How about love?” (Rent, 1994)
At the end of things, how will we “prove” we’ve lived life to its fullest, and taken advantage of every opportunity we could? Maybe we should answer to the same tune as above…
In wisdom, and insights
With interconnected people
In meaning, in joy, in virtue through life.
Death comes to everyone, without an exception.
How will we account for our time in our life?
How about love?
(See y’all tomorrow)
In the spirit of the Broadway musical Rent (or the original tale behind it, Puccini’s opera, La Bohème), how do we measure the time spent living our lives?
“In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?
How about love?” (Rent, 1994)
At the end of things, how will we “prove” we’ve lived life to its fullest, and taken advantage of every opportunity we could? Maybe we should answer to the same tune as above…
In wisdom, and insights
With interconnected people
In meaning, in joy, in virtue through life.
Death comes to everyone, without an exception.
How will we account for our time in our life?
How about love?
(See y’all tomorrow)
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