There is not enough time to do anything.
To be in love. To be a parent. To have a job. To build a life. To live a life. To smile. To cry.
All of it will be lost, and lost too soon. That is the way of things. It does not matter what it is or how much time you think you have. If it is meaningful, there is not enough time. You will run out of time. All will be lost. And you will live forever in the state of about-to-lose.
And yet it is only because it will be lost that it is meaningful; without the pain of loss, nothing would matter anyway.
This is the core of everything. When the Buddhists say that life is suffering, or when the Christians talk about death and resurrection and redemption, what they are talking about is the fact that nothing matters unless it ends. That nothing can be good without first being temporary. That beauty exists only once death and decay are the rule. It is not about Good and Evil in capital letters, but about the nature of being, which is intrinsically valuable to us—moves us forever to tears and joy, fury and collapse—because it encompasses mere good and evil, which dance forever together so that they do not collapse—as they would if they were to coincide—into essential nothingness.
That is the tragedy of existence, but it is also the only beauty of existence. Eliminate the tragedy, and you eliminate the beauty. Peace requires war. Grace requires fallenness.
There is not enough time, because if there ever were to be enough, there would be no need for time in the first place.
All is nothing. Only not-all is something. That’s the way of things.
— § —
Corollary: Death is always sudden. Whether of things or of people, whether yours or someone else’s, it is always sudden.
Even if it was expected.
One moment there is life. The next moment there is death. There is no “almost” to connect them; death is transcendental.
But so, then, is rebirth, as death is—inevitably—the birth of something new.