impermanence
Impermanence (noun): the state or fact of lasting for only a limited period of time.
I recently listened to a clip of Bryan Johnson, a tech millionaire, share his latest project of trying to reverse aging1. During a digression in the clip, he acknowledges that what we define as “meaningful” changes when you no longer expect to die. I think he’s right.
Death is a grim topic and many of us don’t like to think about it. When we do, it’s typically through a sudden and rude interruption to our day—a descension into a crisis of meaning.
“What’s the point of life if we’re all going to die?”
“No one will remember me in 200 years.”
“What’s the purpose of striving if everything fades?”
I think this reaction is fair, and everyone is entitled to have their mid-life crisis, but I also believe that the awareness of an “ending” can transform our life for the better. If you know that the final grain of sand will fall, that the curtains will close and the credits will roll, wouldn’t you better appreciate the current moment? Isn’t appreciation-through-scarcity built into us?
Isn’t this the reason why New Yorkers never visit the Statue of Liberty, but tourists always have it on their itinerary? Or why (I suspect) Michelin star meals have such tiny portions, so you’ll savor each bite? Isn’t it why we feel ecstasy on Fridays, because Sundays have scaries?
sunrises
When I watch the sun rise, I consciously recognize the limited number I’ll see in my lifetime. I don’t know why this comes to mind. Maybe because it requires waking up early, racing out the door, and getting a clear view of the eastern horizon2. But regardless of the reason, every time I see the sun burst out from under the horizon, I know that maybe, I have only so many left to see. It makes each one just that much more special.
stoneware
It doesn’t have to be sentimental things like sunrises, it’s can be mundane things like stoneware. Imagine yourself sitting down to have lunch at your kitchen table. You’re eating an Original Italian sub from Jersey Mike’s on one of your everyday dinner plates. Now imagine you knew this very dinner plate would shatter to pieces next week due to the dishwasher or some other circumstance. For that moment in time, you might feel some appreciation for that dinner plate. Nothing about it has really changed except your acute awareness of your limited time with it. It’s time is ending and that makes your current moment strangely significant3.
daycare
When I go to pick up my daughter from daycare, I make sure to park in the furthest spot from the entrance. I do this because I love carrying her in my arms and I know one day she won’t want to be carried. She recently turned 7 months old, time is moving fast, and our time in this particular slice of life is limited. If I can increase the number steps it takes me to carry her to the car, then by design I’m beating the system. I’m spending my precious time on precious things.
important disclaimer
Don’t let impermanence get in the way of being fully present. I think it’s easy to read this entry and assume that constant observation is what we ought to do, but that would be a mistake. Stepping back and repeatedly reflecting on “how great this all is” is like mistaking the finger for the moon—it would be like going to a concert and obsessively pulling out your phone to capture the moment.
Acknowledging impermanence is an invitation to experience things more fully, with a gentle grasp rather than a tight hold. A light awareness is all you need to better savor the current moment. Become aware and let go.
Yours,
-Rahul
P.S. a reminder you can reply directly to oldmanrahul@substack.com, or you can tweet me @oldmanrahul about this edition. Thanks for reading and supporting my writing :)
He’s spending roughly $2 million a year (!) doing various experiments on his body to reverse his rate of aging.
In other words, it’s a pain in the ass and (most days) it’s easier to stay in and putz around.
I’m not entertaining alternative endings where you try to save the dinner plate through extreme measures. Let’s assume it’s inevitable hah.