‘Spendthrifts of Time,’ A Personal Story

“Were all the geniuses of history to focus on this single theme, they could never fully express their bafflement at the darkness of the human mind. No person would give up even an inch of their estate, and the slightest dispute with a neighbor can mean hell to pay; yet we easily let others encroach on our lives — worse, we often pave the way for those who will take it over. No person hands out their money to passersby, but to how many do each of us hand out our lives! We’re tight-fisted with our property and money, yet think too little of wasting time, the one thing about which we should all be the toughest misers.” — Seneca, On The Brevity of Life

It vexes the mind to consider the lengths to which we will go to protect physical things, much of which can be reacquired if lost, yet wait until too late to realize that our most irreplaceable treasure is time itself — and we haven’t the luxury of purchasing more of it. Booker T. Washington observed that, “The number of people who stand ready to consume one’s time, to no purpose, is almost countless.” We’re barraged on all sides by phone calls, text messages, emails, all demanding immediate responses, and people who simply barge in with no regard for what we may have been in the middle of doing, and proceed to talk like a broken toilet — endless flow and no flush button.

All of which came into stark relief about a year ago when I began having some cognitive issues. Now granted, some degree of slippage in mental agility and memory can occur naturally as one enters the mid-60s, but I also knew that this was at about the same point in my late father’s life when we noticed the first indications of what would later devolve into Alzheimer’s. My employment options began to darken as the sadistically named “Point of Service” systems in the retail business went from being an elaborate nuisance to an impenetrable puzzle palace. Trying to figure out how to use that satanic digital enigma while being bombarded by a herd of ill-mannered customers was about as much fun as alphabetizing a landfill.

Then, things got worse. During the last eight months or so, something as simple as recalling a statement my wife told me one minute ago was nearly impossible. In fact, pretty much anyone could tell me anything and it would fly from my head faster than a toupee in a hurricane. Let’s face it, what little I have to offer the world resides in the space between my ears and, as someone whose gifts primarily involve the written and spoken word, I sensed a dreadful, dark veil closing in on me.

You see, this was at about the same time that I had launched the video version of my podcast as well as my podcast’s website (which includes a blog, a merchandise store and much more). How could I pick up the pace with video and live-stream shows, keep the website brimming with activity, develop a newsletter, and compose the sort of articles and columns that I’ve grown accustomed to publishing when it was increasingly apparent that I was several marshmallows short of a box of Lucky Charms?

In quick order I realized that I couldn’t, and that realization was nearly paralyzing. Perhaps I could continue the audio-only version of the show and drop the video portion. Because playing the role of cameraman, graphics producer, guest cameraman, audio sound effects and music producer, all while simultaneously speaking off the cuff as the host of a fast-paced program, was out of the question. I knew I had to take a hiatus from my muse while figuring out what the deuce was going on.

The first hint of an answer came one evening when my wife suggested we take my glucose reading using her meter. We were both positively gobsmacked when my blood sugar came in just shy of 500. Becky did a quick Google search which confirmed that a blood sugar reading that high usually calls for a trip to the emergency room. But I felt fine! Or at least what passed for “fine” in what had become “normal” for me.

We made an appointment with my doctor where I laid out all my concerns. Lab tests were conducted that confirmed my blood was basically maple syrup and my veins were humming the theme from Willy Wonka. Yes, Virginia, I’m a type 2 diabetic. I told the doc that my blood was thickening, but my brain was thinning and that I’d really like to explore some treatment options. He suggested we wait to visit the cognitive issue until we get my body to some semblance of normalcy (all you people who really know me can stop laughing now).

I’m blessed beyond measure with a wife who has already fought diabetes, and successfully so. I’m also happily blessed to be a non-picky person when it comes to food. Unless it tastes simply gawd-awful (see beets or asparagus), brings back culinary nightmares from Korea (see octopus, anything that’s still alive or looks like a giant insect), or anything you can’t eat without also wearing it, I can handle it. Sugar-free or diet drinks and snacks are an easy alternative. Fiber and anything high in protein are also excellent options.

I’ve been a good patient, and a couple of months into this adventure my blood sugar is averaging in the 95 to 115 range, meaning that the lab technician can now get a blood sample without a Little Debbie snack cake popping out. Yes, I feel much better physically. But the best part? The upstairs lights are turning on again. The act of writing is less laborious and the sheer fun of composing is returning. Moreover, the ability to speak with a mind more fully engaged means a return to confident interactions with readers and listeners.

Which brings you and me, dear reader, to this article’s opening passage from Seneca’s work, On The Brevity of Life: “We’re tight-fisted with our property and money, yet think too little of wasting time, the one thing about which we should all be the toughest misers.” A Roman philosopher who lived from 4 BC to 65 AD, Seneca is featured in the book The Daily Stoic, along with Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus. Authored by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman, the book features 365 daily quotes from these philosophers along with daily practical commentary on the selected quote. Today’s quote is also from Seneca, wherein he says, “Many times an old man has no other evidence besides his age to prove he has lived a long time.”

The gist of it all — minus the fancy wrapping — is to focus on perspective and purpose. The painting you see here is by the French painter Charles-François Daubigny (1817-1878). It captures that moment when the tide recedes, revealing just how much shore is left. For me, it illustrates the point when I caught a dreadful glimpse of how limited our time is in this life and how quickly our meager gifts can fade into insignificance.

There are 8,760 hours in a year, and 87,600 in a decade. How few are the hours, the years, the decades you and I are allotted, and what will we have to show for our time? What if, as today’s quote posits, we take our hours for granted and spend that treasured time on mindless pursuits, watching mediocre television, scrolling mind-numbing videos of things we will never remember, and gossiping about others instead of making the most of our talents, pursuing truth and holding our loved ones close? “What if,” as today’s commentary in The Daily Stoic reads, “you could say that you really made something of this time that you had?”

Personally, I feel like I’ve been given a new lease on life with the return of some functioning brain cells to rub together and a body that seems to be resuming normal function, and I intend to run with it. I intend to put what gifts I have for clarity and communicative horsepower to good use while pursuing truth and celebrating ideas that work, guided always by my faith and relying on the wisdom, music and culture of my ancestors and Western civilization itself. And just for the fun of it, I also mean to explore the marvelous sensation when I'm "in the zone," of writing that results in me hearing different types of music while I craft the words and the narrative. It's happened before, and it's recurring even now. What's that all about?

I mean to bring interesting people to my podcast and into my written work so that we can all learn and benefit from one another's experiences. And I intend to do it all while having more fun than a raccoon in a dumpster full of pizza and energy drinks. Now that should make things enjoyable and productive until what Bill Buckley called “the attenuating hand of time” runs its inevitable course.

That’s how I will use my most precious resource. What about you?