I was driving the other evening and saw this old man in the window of his house eating dinner.  It was just quick peek into his life.  He was eating alone at the table, watching TV, oblivious to the car flashing by peering into his life.  But this instance of my observing him created a spiral of projections, wondering what his life was like, questioning if he was happy.

And suddenly I felt so depressed.

I suddenly got so scared of growing old.  They say “the youth is wasted on the young” and never before did I feel this statement to be so true.  I thought of all the time that I spend worrying, stressing, feeling bored, being overwhelmed, and I wanted to cry.  I try to appreciate life, but I know that I am not fully.  There is so much I take for granted.

When you are young you have a body that is capable of almost anything, you have the energy to accomplish whatever you dream, you have the potential to create your own utopia.  There is nothing but endless possibility yet it is so easy to forget that and get bogged down by the seemingly mundane.  The decisions we feel imprisoned by.

But how do we realize the beauty of existence in a real way?  I know we all fear mortality, and death is scary, but so is being old.  Or maybe it isn’t?  Maybe that old guy was like “shit.. I have had enough of this experience of being alive… time for the next adventure.”  Maybe after 80 years you are kind over life and are perfectly content with sitting, relaxing, and soaking it all in.

(please notice the tiny little youthful body running on the beach)