I’ll be turning 25 in a few days. And I found a shiny silver curl in my beard one morning, coinciding my ‘silver’ jubilee birthday.
My first reactions:
For a moment it was an overwhelmingly humbling reminder of my mortal and frail life. It was as if I could already hear the first faint mocking cries of old age and death from the distant future. 25 long years of innocence, anguish, happiness, beauty, and suffering have passed. I’ve indeed learned a lot in all these years. But I have not the faintest idea of what I have yet to know and learn.
Soon, the existential questions surfaced- Where did all those years go? What have I accomplished in these years?
I reflected back on the years I’ve wasted. Wait a minute, wasted? How do I define life being “useful” and life being “wasted”? I realized I bought into the idea I often get advised by people around me, who say that if I’m not working a 9–5 job, I’m “wasting my life”.
But how does working for someone not count as wasting my time? What acts in my life would make it worthwhile to be called useful? What would give meaning to my life? Continue reading “How a single gray hair in my beard changed my life forever.”