Time flows like water running through our fingers. Moments as droplets that run once and can never be grasped again. Sit with this. Remember being, say, eight years old, when the summer stretched before you like an endless ocean? For the fortunate, those days felt infinite—each hour expanding to hold whole adventures. The sun seemed to hang forever in the sky, as if time itself had agreed to slow down just for you. But by our mid-twenties, much of that sensation you had eventually descents into autumn. It’s subtle at first, like watching shadows lengthen on a late afternoon. But soon, those days drop like falling leaves, and a month seems able to dissolve in what used to feel like a week. It’s not nostalgia playing tricks, it’s us processing the world differently as we age. This isn’t meant to frighten you—it’s meant to wake you.
From nature through nurture, we’re taught to wade carefully through the world, to test the waters before we dive in. Society grew on rewarding the cautious, celebrating the methodical, and praising those who colour within the lines. But to do so isn’t failure, nor is failure the greatest tragedy we’re led to believe; it’s the slow fade into this mediocrity. Failure isn’t even important. And every time you swallow your dreams—because perhaps people made fun of it, or your parents called it a waste of time—and you choose comfort over courage or mute your wild heart, you aren’t being wise. You are dying by degrees.
Presence is raw electricity coursing through your veins and showing you that time doesn’t just pass—it deepens. Each hour enriches you, and each decision becomes a door that puts the light in your eyes.
I’ve always come back to the thought of how children live—totally immersed in their world, whether they’re drawing with crayons or chasing birds. They haven’t learned to dim their light yet. They shout with excitement because they don’t think about looking foolish or being “too much”. They live with an intensity that makes the world bend to their imagination. It’s the likely reason why many people call them the greatest thing in the world. And I believe it inspires us all to return to this behaviour, eventually.
Why? Because we get tired of those years or decades of careful conditioning into adulthood. It’s boring, whereas a child’s spirit continues burning like an ember, waiting to be fanned into flame. There will always be times where your heart races with ideas and thrill, where you feel the urge to create or explore or transform. That’s your intensity calling you home.
Don’t wait for permission to get back to this. Don’t wait for the perfect time or universal approval. It’s not coming. The only thing that’s guaranteed is what we all know. The clock’s ticking. Life’s sweetness lies in its brevity. Live now and live intensely. Don’t let yourself forget, and don’t get to the end only to discover you never truly began at all.