From Seneca, On The Shortness of Life (De Brevitate Vitae) :
It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it. Life is long enough, and a sufficiently generous amount has been given to us or the highest achievements if it were all well invested. But when it is wasted in heedless luxury and spent on no good activity, we are forced at last by death's final constraint to realize that it has passed away before we knew it was passing. So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it....So what is the reason for this? You are living as if destined to live forever; your own frailty never occurs to you; you don't notice how much time has already passed, but squander it as though you had a full and overflowing supply--though all the while that very day which you are devoting to somebody or something may be your last. You act like mortals in all that you fear, and like immortals in all that you desire. You will hear many people saying: 'When I am fifty I shall retire into leisure; when I am sixty I shall give up public duties.' And what guarantee do you have of a longer life? Who will allow your course to proceed as you arrange it? Aren't you ashamed to keep for yourself just the remnant of your life, and to devote to wisdom only that time which cannot be spent on any business? How late it is to begin really to live just when life must end! How stupid to forget our mortality, and put off sensible plans to our fiftieth and sixtieth years, aiming to being life from a point at which few have arrived!
I'm realizing that the central aspect to my new-found independence is not the process of learning how to teach, keep a budget, or manage time. It is a search for the best way to live.
Two things shape and color this search: First, and most importantly, I am grounded in the gift of Christian faith. This means that I have the freedom of knowing that I am a fallen human being in desperate need of a Savior. Second, I have been blessed with an education that encourages me to wonder at the created world around me, to ask difficult questions, and to settle for nothing but the deepest truth, always.
Seneca's words ring true to me. In my life, more often than I would like to admit, I start coasting; I find the groove and just play along, keeping time. This is a very comfortable and natural way to live. It keeps me out of trouble, under the radar, gainfully employed, and on good terms with nearly everyone. But, as I always re-discover, the groove offers no adventure and zero satisfaction.
I only have so much time on this Earth. Like Seneca, I want to own that time--every second. I want to employ my talents and creativity, my mind and muscles toward a life's work that is not just means to wealth, but a grand endeavor that I have chosen. Said simply, I want to be a man. I decided to up and move to Arizona because it would be an adventure. In doing so, I had to acknowledge the possibility that it could be a flop; I might not like the city, the weather, the job, the people, the kids, the snakes etc. etc. At this point, one week in, I can say that the work of a teacher seems to offer something indeed worthy and rewarding, and I'm sure that as this school year continues, I'll discover whether this occupation and this place are right for me. I may call Arizona home for a year, or twenty. I may learn to truly love teaching, or find another calling. Life seems wide-open in front of me.
I just want to spend it well.
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