I am not a numbers person. I have never been much of a math person. But today, I was inspired by some numbers.
The internet calculates things for us confused folk, hence, it was easy to lift the numerical values off the screen. All I have to do now is supplement them with my crafty words.
That is my jam, as you know. Words, not numbers.
So here goes.
According to my birth date, I have been alive for 18,921 days.
You want that in hours? 454,104.
I remember when I gave birth to my son. His big head got jammed in my narrow pelvis and they cut him out of me via c-section. As soon as he was lifted out, the doctor held him up above the sheet that blocked my view of my abdominal area and…that boy peed all over the OR.
“That’s his first pee,” the doctor said. The boy was not even a minute old.
I wonder what I did in my first hour of life…
Well I’ve lived many hours, as you can see, making me feel my age. I force myself to stare at these days, and hours, and give myself the push I need to get off my fanny and DO it.
Do what, you ask?
Well, I have a list. Aspirations. All hindered by…something.
They say that the main culprit of reluctance, indecision and inactivity is fear. Sometimes, crippling fear.
I know this intrinsically. But how do I get beyond it?
I do spend some time reflecting on hindsight, as seems to be a thing we middle aged people tend to do, trying to learn from past mistakes and missed opportunities. The question is, am I spending too much time in the past? (The answer is yes, I do.)
The above jumble of words were actually inspired by a post a friend shared with me this morning in which this guy calculated his own age in terms of weeks and days. But he went a step further. He focused on the numbers that were still to come. He posed these questions:
How many more weeks, days, hours will I live?
And most importantly, what will I do with that time?
I struggle with this exercise. No one wants to deal with their impending death. We all know it’s coming, but we don’t know the date or time. Whatever your belief is, circumstances beyond our control will decide for us when our time has come to end our journey. We are not in control of that aspect of our lives. We are only in control (to degrees) of what we do with the time we have right now.
Which leads me to my point:
What are we going to do with this time?
I did some random googling about life expectancy.
This map intrigued me, so I went to its source and plugged in UK. This is what happened:
Side note: The map has categories you can choose to manipulate the map by country, by gender and related characteristics. These lines are not gender based, but typically, the women in the western world outlive the males by some years.
I find this all rather illuminating. Which makes me consider the following serious question:
What do I want to do with the rest of my life?
For argument’s sake, lets say I live another 30 years.
That’s 10,950 days, or 262,800 hours.
That’s a lot of words I could write during those hours…
Here’s one more little tidbit I came across this morning. A blogger out of New Zealand published a book of poems called How To Be Old. Her name is Rachel McAlpine and she is 80 years old. This book is sold out and they’re issuing a reprint for further orders.
How amazing is that? It’s not even her first book; she has a slew of published books under her belt.
Check out her blog, her podcasts, and of course her books here.
I mention Rachel because she is 30ish years ahead of me. And she is still doing it, writing and publishing and podcasting and blogging and living her life on her terms.
❤ You inspire me Rachel ❤
Tell me, what are you going to do with your days and hours? How can we help each other to propel forward, stay focused and on track?
Let’s to this. Who’s in?