While New Years Eve is much hyped in our time as being something of significance, in effect it is merely another day that will never come again. I think that fact makes every day important. Perhaps if we considered the implications of how unique each day was, we would live with greater purpose. We would probably sleep a little less, rise a little earlier, eat and act more thoughtfully, love better and hate less. There would certainly be more purpose-driven activity.
I could be wrong but the best palliative for discontent and boredom is knowing that we are passing through times that can't be repeated, those times being there for the making in new and imaginative ways. This is not an exhortation to live for the moment, which might be the hedonists take on my words. But in the moment, absolutely.
How much time is wasted waiting for something to happen, for life to change, for things to get better? Could we even quantify it? Would we not be frightened to do so, knowing that our hourglass holds less sand, and that the sand already spent has been so egregiously misspent.
I don't know. But during the countdown of countdowns, the waiting for midnight and its forced celebrations, it might be worth thinking about.
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