An 80-year lifespan is 960 months or about 29,000 days long. Think of that, an entire life filled with a flurry of ambitions, dreams, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives and moments that you’ll never know existed. All this is housed within 29,000 days. 69,6000 hours. 417,60000 minutes. 2,228,800,000 seconds.
And for someone my age (25 years) this means I have approximately 19, 875 days left. It’s a sobering, almost shocking reminder of life and its impartial transmutations. But when I reflect on the journey so far - one that has seen me crash movie sets in New York, swam with sharks, slept in tree-houses built by circus performers, dined in penthouse apartments and luxury hotels with singers, and global business magnates - I’m left with a feeling not too dissimilar of a cat stretching itself in the warm rays of an afternoon sun.
The only thing I’d wish I had done earlier was record something of my inner journey that could harmonise, like sweet symphonic undertones, the photos now preserved in albums both at home and on-line.
It’s no secret that the nature of life is one soaked in ephemerality - which is a basic tenet of Stoicism and Buddhism, a basic motif of Proust and Shakespeare. But this infallible truth, coupled with all the above, has also left me thinking further about legacy. I’ve spent the last few months ruminating over what kind of a contribution I’d like to make onto the world for both my future family and generations to come. And getting lost in the nefarious chasms of the world wide web, I found one passage by Ray Bradbury, that has struck a chord with me;
“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.” ― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit.
Thus comes the reasons for this project/ blog. It is so that, like starlight resting behind a morning sky, I may leave something of myself behind for future generations when my ashes are scattered, debts paid, and my spirit home. I hope these daily notes may serve as a guide or map of sorts for readers so that you may learn something from my experiences. Because although context may change, one immutable, irrevocable fact of life is its very cyclical, recurrent, and consistent nature.
The structure of this blog is that each post will be in the form of a brief letter or thought, no longer than 500 words. But regardless dear reader, I hope they may give you something of value for your generous time and company. I hope they may also act as a constant reminder and clear resolution for me to keep striving for something significant and meaningful with each day until 30,000 of them have passed.
So without further ado, welcome to the kaleidoscopic mash where my passions of travel, coffee, cryptocurrencies, storytelling, writing, running and so much more may come to together and allow people to lose themselves in a series of thoughts reflecting on the journey of my life so far.
As a closing note allow me to share a further passage from one of my favourite stories;
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.” ― Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Screenplay