The one thing I’ve come to understand is the finiteness of life. If everyone reflected on their own mortality and factored in their 80-year-old self into every situation and decision, they would see the world differently. My first real encounter with this idea was when my wife started to get into bed with my eldest child and stroke her head until she fell asleep.
For the past year or so, I had been putting the eldest to sleep while the youngest was breastfed to sleep at the same time. This left me and my eldest to read stories, get tucked in, and form our own regimented routine every night.
When the youngest’s feeding came to an end, the roles reversed and it was my job to get her to sleep, which took some effort (rocking, bobbing, swaying and anything else that worked). They say it takes about three consecutive days to make or break a routine, and by the time it was my turn to put the oldest to bed again, she had truly settled into the new head-stroking routine.
When it was my turn to stroke her head, I inevitably wasn’t doing it right, which took even longer to get her to sleep. I found this extremely irritating on all fronts. It seemed like all my efforts to get her to sleep on her own like a big girl had gone out the window, and now it would take more time spent with her to get her to sleep.
Boiling that thought down, it translates to, “I’m annoyed at having to spend more time with my little girl.” Even writing it now fills me with regret that those thoughts even occurred.
What changed?
We’re often told to be present, and as an aspiring practitioner myself, I find my additional way of thinking a slight contradiction to this. For example, when kids are being kids – screaming, shouting, irrational, and unreasonable – it’s easy to wish away the present and look to the future. That’s when I embrace something I call “future presence,” which is the ability to look at your current situation through the eyes of your future self to make more present-based decisions.
In the case of the head-stroking, I asked myself, “What would my 80-year-old self say?” The answer was easy and brings a tear even as I write this. My future self would shake me and say, “What are you getting annoyed about? This isn’t going to last long. Before you know it, she won’t want you to do this anymore. Enjoy every last bit of it because I would give everything I have right now to come back to this very moment and do this all over again.”
It’s a deep realization, and even though I think and practice this exercise, reliving that conversation and writing it down here really strikes deep to the point that I’m trying my best to fight back the tears and wipe them from the keyboard. Sure enough, the head-stroking did pass and turned into climbing into bed and telling stories every night until she falls asleep. I’m not sure how long it will last, but I enjoy every moment of it now.
We only get one life, and there’s no guarantee we’ll reach the end. I now try to pass many of my feelings, emotions, decisions, and other experiences through my 80-year-old self’s lens to lead a life with minimal regrets and live today, content that tomorrow may never come.