April 23, 2025
Over the past six weeks, as I’ve sat in stillness—recovering, reflecting, simply being. I’ve been contemplating two things we so often take for granted: life and time.
There’s a story attributed to the Buddha that I find compelling:
One day, the Buddha asked his disciples, “How long is life?”
“Maybe fifty years?” a disciple answered.
“Wrong,” said the Buddha.
“Then… months?”
“No.”
“Days? Weeks?”
“Still wrong,” replied the Buddha. “Life is not measured in years, months, or days.”
The disciples, puzzled, finally asked, “Then how long is our life?”
The Buddha answered, “Life is only as long as one breath.”
That teaching lands differently when you’ve brushed up against death.
Thirteen years ago, when I was diagnosed with two advanced cancers, I came to terms with my own mortality. I made peace with the idea that life is fragile and unpredictable. That we don’t come with an expiry date. That our last breath is life’s great unknown.
But lately, a new question has taken root in me: How do I want to spend the time that I do have?
I have a beautiful life, full of love and purpose. I wake up in gratitude every single day. But I’ve begun to ask myself—am I truly living with intention?
Am I spending time on things that matter most?
Am I using my energy to align with my deepest values?
Who am I spending time with?
Is my work feeding my soul?
Am I doing the things that will leave me with no regrets?
These are not morbid questions. On the contrary—they are life-giving. They push me to redesign my days so they reflect the life I want to live—not someday, but now.
For me, this redesign includes simple but profound shifts:
• Floss twice a day (because yes, small things matter)
• No phone for one hour after waking up
• Schedule a daily 1–2 hour “vacation” just for myself to do what brings me joy
• Sit in stillness and meditate for one hour each day
• Do one hard thing daily that stretches me
• Connect with friends once a week
• Find one way to serve someone, every day
• Sleep at least 6 hours a night—no excuses
And I timebox these intentions into my calendar—not to constrain myself, but to honour the finite gift of time. Because time is a diminishing resource. And how we spend our time… is how we spend our life.
So, I’ll leave you with the same question I’m asking myself:
What does a life well lived look like for you?
And what would change if you started designing that life… starting now?
