We all say it and think it from time to time, "It really makes you think how short life is and how you should really appreciate it and only worry about what's important."

I think it's easy to get complacent, though.  We walk around acting as if nothing can happen, even when we know that it can.  Life changes in an instant, and it can never be the same again.

Today I was reminded of how quickly a world can turn upside down.  Fortunately, it was just a scare, not a permanent change, but it reminded me of my thought process the year following the loss of a very close friend. 

I walked around that year almost in a haze, like I was outside looking in.  I was sharply aware of many things that, even now, slip my attention - things like how finite our time is, like how the people who are in our lives now may not be a year from now or five years from now, like how we place so much emphasis on things that make no real difference.  It seems, even with the haze, that I was thinking so much more clearly.

I read the book The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion when it first came out a few years ago.  I read it several years after my friend's death, so I know I have a unique perspective on the book - one of the complacent everyday person (so I know how the thinking can be construed as crazy) and one of the person who has been in the author's shoes (so I know that the thinking is really magical and not crazy).

I guess life is not meant to be lived in that frame of mind, but sometimes, I can't help but wish that it was - appreciating and soaking in every moment, holding on to every minute so tightly so as to avoid the inevitable (seemingly) a little longer.  I guess that's no way to live.

Like in Finding Nemo, the dad fish says, "I promised I'd never let anything happen to him."  Dory replies, "Hmm. That's a funny thing to promise.  You can't never let anything happen to him.  Then nothing would ever happen to him."

All virtues are fragile and acquire firmness and strength with time. - Seneca

I sometimes waiver in my attempts at being a better person.  There are certain virtues - certain attributes and personality traits - that I would like to develop within myself, and when I fall short or live outside of that standard, I'm usually very disappointed in myself.

I think, though, that Seneca was right (imagine that).  It's a work in progress.  That's why wisdom is generally reserved for the very old; it took them that long to figure it out and to live it right.

That's why I'm okay with getting older.  I find that life gets easier the older I get.  I become more content.  I understand things a lot better.  There's less of a struggle, and there's more peace.

"Long association brings love of evil as well as good." - Seneca

Conditioning and habit can cause ruts and cause you to love those things that may not be all that good for you. 

It makes sense.

We know we should exercise and eat better to be healthier, but we manage to do neither of the two.  We maintain relationships and ties that we know cause us stress, and then we rationalize why we maintain them.  We do all the wrong things and none of the right and wonder why things stay the same.

That's the slippery slope of developing habits.  While some routines are good and provide stability for us, others are detrimental and cause frustration, but how do you break those "long associations"?

You break them by slowly creating new routines.  If you start a new job, you'll naturally be going a new route to work each day, you'll be eating in new places and possibly at a different time, and you'll be associating with different people.  The key is not to let yourself sink into bad ruts once more, but instead, use the opportunity to condition yourself to do the right thing.

At first, it will be challenging, but gradually and with repetition, you'll be doing things in a whole new way.

I'm convinced that rational brain cells only function at night - and on Sundays.  In the light of day (any working day), I believe they are dormant.

I can busy myself with things that make little difference and no sense - things that would probably be better left undone even with a surplus of time, let alone when it's scarce (most days).

Somehow, checking my email for the twentieth time in an hour makes sense to me and seems rational, even necessary.

Yet, at night, when I'm completely out of energy and motivation, as I analyze the efforts of my day and contemplate my course of action for tomorrow, I suddenly have a clarity of mind that manages to escape me any other time (except Sundays, but I'll get to that later).

All of a sudden, I know exactly what I should do.  It's obvious to me where I've been going wrong.  I have a plan, and tomorrow, things will be different.

The same thing happens on Sundays.  I develop ambitious schemes for how I'm going to right the wrongs in my life.  Monday will come (what a clean slate that day is!), and I will launch into my grand plan.  Failure is not even a possibility.

The alarm goes off, my eyes open, my brain is flooded with light, and I remember - I need to check my email.

Many times, I set out to accomplish a goal.  Maybe I want to exercise more, go to bed earlier, read more, or spend more time with family and friends.  I have the best intentions.  I make a plan for how I will accomplish the goal ("I'll do x, y, and z in order to make this happen.").  One thing that I fail to do, though, is make room for the goal.

You've heard the saying, "Out with the old, in with the new."

If we ever hope to succeed at something, we have to make room to succeed.

Any of the goals I listed require more time.  That's probably true of most things, so if the goal requires time and our days are already full, we're setting ourselves up to fail, if we don't make the time for it by eliminating something else.

For example, if we want to read more, then we'll probably have to do something else less.  We could limit our TV time, get up earlier (sleep less), or check our email less often throughout the day.  Whatever the case, we have to find ways to trim the fat from our schedules and make room for this new endeavor.