It’s January 15, 2023. A plane has crashed in Nepal. Last count, 40 people have been found dead, with the toll rising with each passing hour.

While millions of condolent hearts pour out their heartfelt condolences, I cannot help but notice the juxtaposition of apathy I am experiencing in my own life, and how quickly it can end. Meaninglessly, without warning. Just gone. Poof.

I have been living as if each day is a burden to be borne. Each hour a vessel of drudgery to be delved through. As if no one alive ever dies.

Sad and tragic as it may be, the plane crash had a way of bringing to the fore that which truly matters… the ephemeral nature of life itself. My soul may go on living forever. But my life, as I know it, as I quantize it, is inching closer to death.

There is surely time for an afternoon siesta, but let’s not forget the importance of working mornings to a perspiratory corse. For it is the exhaustion that imparts meaning to resting your bones.

In the end, remember this…

You are looking for a hobby to kill your Sundays with, while unbeknownst to you, barely visible shadow of death looms right on top of your head.

Your time, most certainly, is more limited than you imagine.