on life’s priorities, illuminated by the end-of-summer sun
I feel that the desire to earn an unimaginable amount of money has often blinded me to my greatest priorities in life, to what truly matters most.
It is the second-to-last day of vacation. I am sitting 450 meters above sea level in a semi-abandoned Albanian village, in a house built of stone. I cannot see much beyond the clouds obscuring the nearby island of Corfu, yet my face is warmed by the rays of the evening sun.
In moments like these, I start to feel what I actually carry inside. They jolt me out of the daily rush (someone coined this a rat race, right?). I begin to wonder: what am I running after, where does this immense pressure on myself come from? Doing things practically against my own nature?
Where from?
I don’t always know its source, but I remember it started when, as a little boy, I decided I wanted to be a Finance Director like my father. It seemed to me then like a position burdened with social status (interesting how the Polish word for this, obarczone, literally translates to "weighed down"). I wanted money and power.
Years went by, and my cravings for material wealth grew. At one point, I wanted to be the richest person in the world, then a little less so, then to own my own company, but a massive one. Eventually, I started asking myself: if my life were to end one day, would I truly be satisfied with the priorities I had set? With the choices I had made?
For instance, what if one of us has only "a year left to live"? Do you know for sure it isn't you or me? If we knew it for a fact, would we make the same decisions?
I have the impression we often think we still have time. More than we actually do. "I will sacrifice 10 years to the grind, and once I’ve made my fortune, I’ll take my girlfriend or my kids on a real vacation." But there is one problem with this kind of thinking: kids are only three years old once in a lifetime, and your girlfriend might not stick around to wait out those 10 years.
When I remind myself of this perspective, that I never know how much time I have left, time suddenly stops. I start to ponder and reflect; I hit pause. Decisions that once seemed obvious (like grinding for another 10 years to build a huge company) vanish into the murmur of the sea waves.
Desires that may have been suppressed for a long time begin to rise to the surface. Especially the ones that will ensure I am truly content on my deathbed, at peace with my choices.
And how would you change your life if you knew you had only one year left to live?
Yours,
Mikolaj