We often find ourselves trapped in the same repetitive cycles—endlessly chasing better finances, rushing frantically from one obligation to the next, hoping for a more attractive partner, or believing that the best parts of life are always just around the corner. We soothe ourselves with a dangerous lie: that there is plenty of time. We tell ourselves that later we will travel, later we will build something meaningful, and later we will finally allow ourselves to relax and be happy.

But there is one undeniable truth that we collectively push away: none of us will live forever. Most people actively avoid this reality, convincing themselves that mortality is a distant concern, decades away, and certainly not something that will interrupt their plans anytime soon. Yet, the stark reality remains that no one actually knows how much time is left on their clock.

Imagine Learning Your Time Is Short

Picture this scenario vividly: you receive news today that your days are truly numbered. In that clarifying moment, would money or social status still feel like the top priority? While you might wish you had seen more of the world or ensured your children’s financial security, those desires would suddenly feel secondary to something much deeper.

What would weigh heaviest would be the quality of your actions and the state of your conscience: the things you did or didn’t do, the times you were unfair, dishonest, or hurtful. You would immediately think about anyone who might still hold resentment toward you, and the terrifying prospect of carrying that anger or distance into your final moments would be unbearable. If you were on bad terms with someone, you would reach out immediately—with no hesitation and absolutely no pride. Everything else—the career ladder, the petty grievances, the material accumulations—would fade into the background.

How That Perspective Changes Daily Life

When you start genuinely holding the possibility that any day could be your last—and statistically, one day it certainly will be—your small, daily choices shift dramatically. This is not about fear; it is about clarity.

Would you waste your limited energy on pointless arguments or holding onto old grudges? Would you betray trust in a cherished relationship? Would you cut ethical corners for a quick, temporary gain? Most people realize the answer is a resounding no. Suddenly, petty conflicts and destructive habits lose their grip on your psyche because they are revealed as unworthy of your time.

At first, this thought process can feel heavy, perhaps even paralyzing. It is a natural psychological defense to want to push it away. But over time, acceptance brings clarity instead of fear. The background anxiety of "not doing enough" quiets down, and something else emerges: a deep, resonant appreciation for ordinary moments—fresh air on a late-night walk, a quiet evening with a book, or the simple, miraculous fact that you are here, breathing, right now.

Time Stops Feeling Infinite

When we accept our mortality, we stop pouring hours into meaningless distractions or toxic emotions. Short-term flings or superficial interactions that leave everyone feeling emptier start to seem utterly pointless. Instead, long-ignored impulses begin to surface and demand attention: calling a parent you haven’t spoken to in months, visiting a friend you keep "meaning" to see, or finally doing the things you have been postponing because you thought "there will be time later."

Goals that once felt urgent—climbing higher on the corporate ladder, acquiring more luxury goods—often reveal themselves as hollow. The self-built cages of constant busyness and perpetual delay become visible, and the desire to step out of them grows stronger. We realize that waiting to live is the greatest risk of all.

A Quieter, More Intentional Way to Live

Regularly reminding ourselves that our time is limited does not lead to despair; it leads to radical presence. It strips away the trivial noise of modern life and highlights what actually endures: how we treat people, the integrity of our choices, and the love we give and receive.

It is a simple shift in awareness, yet it has the power to spare us the deepest regrets of the human condition. Living with the awareness of death doesn’t make life smaller—it makes it infinitely fuller.

References

• Bronnie Ware. The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. Hay House, 2011.
  Based on years of conversations with people in their final weeks, the book identifies the most common regrets: living according to others’ expectations, working too hard, suppressing true feelings, losing touch with friends, and not allowing greater happiness—insights that align closely with prioritizing relationships, authenticity, and presence over material or superficial pursuits.
• Marcus Aurelius. Meditations (Gregory Hays translation). Modern Library, 2002.
  Throughout the work, particularly in Books 2, 4, and 7, the author repeatedly urges himself to remember death (Memento Mori) in order to live virtuously in the present, act with integrity, and avoid wasting time on trivial conflicts or distractions.
• Irvin D. Yalom. Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Terror of Death. Jossey-Bass, 2008.
  The book explores how confronting mortality directly reduces existential fear and enriches daily life, encouraging people to live more authentically, repair relationships, and focus on meaningful engagement rather than avoidance or denial.