Arbitrary Deadlines

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about an idea from one of my recent favorite books, The Power of Moments by Chip and Dan Heath. It’s the idea that, if you knew for certain that you had so little time left to live, would you still live your life on autopilot?

As the Heath brothers write, “This is the great trap of life: One day rolls into the next, and a year goes by, and we still haven’t had that conversation we always meant to have…Still haven’t seen the northern lights. We walk a flatland that could have been a mountain range.”

With that, behaving as if you wouldn’t live until an arbitrary deadline would lead you to “live a week in a day, a month in a week, a year in a month.”

Borrowing this idea, I set the start of the next year as an arbitrary deadline. This isn’t just mental gymnastics, as I would act as if it is certain that this year would be my last.

Perhaps the reason why this idea has recently resonated with me is because this past month has honestly been brutally tough. I’ve experienced really exhausting depressive episodes, feeling deathly and listless on an almost daily basis. This is probably the lowest I’ve felt in years.

But just last week, I saw how this idea could help me in not only pushing through difficult and dark times, but also in opening myself up to the beauty and light that do exist in this life.

I had at least some form of relief from the depression I’ve been going through, even if for a brief night. I attended a concert that I had been highly anticipating, with my closest friend since our days as kindergarten classmates.

The band was Sum 41, who were the soundtrack to much of our childhood and teens. Kuala Lumpur was one of the stops in their final tour, as they are slated to disband soon.

The show ended at about 11 at night. And my only plan after that was to quickly grab a shawarma on the go for dinner and hurry back home. I was not only bone-tired, but both my friend and I had separate job interviews the next day. Also, Mom had already been badgering me about my whereabouts before the show was even over.

My friend, as he always is, was nonchalant about the whole thing. Somewhat reluctantly, I followed his lead as we spent time sauntering in the dodgy streets of Bukit Bintang, while he acted as a tour guide, of some kind. Among other things, he pointed out where we could find “bapak ayam”, or pimps lingering around.

He then brought me to the rooftop of Lot 10, where we had a decent view of the skyscrapers, including the KL Tower and Merdeka 118. As I took in the view in that moment, I remembered my arbitrary deadline.

I thought to myself, “You know what? If I were on my deathbed, I probably wouldn’t remember going about my banal routines. I would remember the little moments like this, staying out late and being present with one of my favorite people, who I don’t get to see very often anyway.”

Sitting there, backdropped by skyscrapers, we just talked about life, and anything at all that was on our minds.

He later sent me to my usual park in Subang, where I left my car, and we finally went our separate ways. But not before he drove us around in Subang, while we talked some more. As tired as I was, I could never resist how beautiful Subang is during night time.

 

 

 

 

There is a great quote by Jackass stuntman Steve-O, who has continuously risked his life and put himself through unimaginable forms of pain for his death-defying stunts. “We only have one instinct, which is to survive,” he said. “And we only have one guarantee, which is we won’t.”

I know, I just quoted someone from Jackass. 

But that’s just the plain fact of life. The reality is that all of us will die soon. And we can die at absolutely any time. 

Yet, we prefer not to see reality, but to see our reality.

We live as if we have all the time in the world. Or at least, that we all have the guarantee of dying old. 

Having an arbitrary deadline is one way to get serious about remembering our looming mortality, to feel the urgency of now at our heels. 

For me, it helps me acknowledge that life can be an exhausting struggle. But it doesn’t have to be all there is. I can always do my utmost to find the beauty in everything along the way, and to make the space for the things that I love and are meaningful to me.

Try stopping a while and asking yourself, what would you do if you knew you wouldn’t live until next year, or even tomorrow?