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An Existential Excavation
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We tend to live as though we are immortal.

We devote our time and energy to meaningless pursuits: a fancier car, a bigger house, more stuff. Hours spent scrolling and binging TV shows.

I realize that it is nearly impossible for the Western mind to live in intentional mindfulness all the time, but the fact is each of us has a specific number of minutes and hours of this consciousness on this planet (as far as we can tell).

Many influential thinkers have echoed this sentiment, perhaps none better than our friend Marcus Aurelius, who said, “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.”

Consider also the thought (widely attributed to Native Americans, but the exact etiology is uncertain), “Today is a good day to die.” Regardless of origin, this phrase expresses an acceptance of mortality, an alignment with purpose or duty, and courage in the face of risk.

It is less about seeking death, and more about being so committed to agency and purpose that the fear of death is no longer controlling your behavior.

The Quest for Freedom

Each stage of life brings certain restrictions. When we are very young, we can’t physically take care of ourselves and are completely dependent on a caretaker to keep us safe and sane. We might want to eat all the candy in the candy jar, but that would be harmful to us, so we are—rightfully—restrained.

As we grow from that point to the age of majority which normally coincides with the end of compulsory education, our knowledge and interest grow, and we find many things that we want to do and see. At this stage, we have a great deal more freedom, but there are two constraints.

First, in most circumstances, we don’t have much money with which to indulge our explorations. Secondly, we are still legally bound to honor a caretaker. If we vigorously rebel against that caretaker while still a minor, the State will quickly appoint itself as our caretaker and restrict our freedom exponentially. Third, and the most difficult to understand at this age, is the fact that the things that interest us are sometimes quite harmful.

I have worked with many people who, later in life, are still dealing with the deleterious effects of “things that seemed like a good idea at the time,” when they were teenagers.

Drug addictions (yes, including alcohol - it is definitely a drug) are severely limiting, and may never resolve. Unplanned pregnancies close many doors and the ramifications persist, whether a child is brought into the world or not. There are many similar examples.

These unfortunate decisions arise from the fact that, while we are old enough to act, we are not yet experienced enough to fully understand long-term consequences.

The Golden Triangle

Then, if we’re lucky and smart and had the benefit of sound guidance, we become adults. And the rest of our lives are spent managing the scarcity triangle: health, money, and time.

Early in adulthood, we typically have plenty of health, but very little discretionary time, because we’re busy trying to earn the money that we also don’t have. This is an investment; time spent in education, learning a trade, and developing competence.

Later, if we made sound decisions, we may develop a career that provides financial security—sometimes more than we ever imagined.

Then the triangle shifts: we have adequate amounts of money, but spend most of our time earning it. As a result, our health may start to decline. This is still a necessary investment in our meaningful longevity for most.

Later in adulthood, if we made good decisions, we may find a period of time in which we can enjoy the benefits of entire triangle. If we’re lucky and careful, we may have preserved our health, accumulated sufficient resources, and gained control over our time. This is the ultimate freedom trifecta: health, money and time.

A quick note: when I speak about “good decisions,” I am not invoking any particular moral, ethical, political, or religious code. For me, the bottom line to what constitutes a good decision is simple:

Good decisions are those that give you the maximum freedom to live your life as you want, now and in the future.

Good Decisions

What can we learn from all of this?

First, from an early age, the maximum amount of freedom comes from carefully making life choices with an eye to the future, both immediate and distant.

Second, with all this planning and working and and focus on the future, it is extremely easy to lose sight of the present.

And that leads us back to the central point:

The only time that is guaranteed to you is the present instant.

I have had friends that died in their teens from automobile accidents and unavoidable, genetic disorders. Many died from the effects of drug abuse and violence in their 20s and 30s.

Each decade after that, the cumulative effect of life is stacked against us. The incidence of cancer, heart disease, and death from medical errors—currently the third leading cause of death in the United States—and all other factors (the term is “all-cause mortality”) becomes more likely.

This is not cause for alarm. This is not a reason to be sad, or give up.

This is the nature of life.

Whatever your stage of life and whatever your situation in regards to the health–money–time triangle, I employ you to make good decisions to preserve your freedom as much as possible.

Then, enjoy the pleasures and explorations of life that may be available to you—

while you still can.

How to Play The Payoff

I am currently working with a number of retirees. Observationally, they are divided into two camps, each quite sure that their approach is correct.

One group refuses to retire. They work into their 70s and beyond, seeking to accumulate the largest possible pot of gold. When asked why they continue to exchange time for money—often beyond necessity—they cite security and the desire to leave something behind.

On the surface, this seems logical and even noble. But when you dig a little deeper, their decisions are strongly motivated by an erroneous conflation of work and purpose.

Without exploring an entire treatise on purpose (which I will do in the near future), suffice to say that these people mistake what they do to be who they are.

Their job has become their identity.

If you have been an engineer or a school teacher or a draftsman for 40 years, retirement brings a frightening question: who—and what—am I now?

This realization is not always conscious, but always present and has a powerful influence on decisions later in life.

The end result is that—predictably—most of these individuals die while still working full–time. With varying degrees of success, they may have passed some of their monetary wealth onto their successors. But at what cost?

To literally work yourself to death instead of pursuing your purpose, your life becomes that of a drone; a worker bee whose existence was to enhance material production.

This seems, to me, to have completely missed the point of life in the first place: 

To experience life as fully as possible—

while you still can. 

And it is worth mentioning that what kills these individuals is likely adverse health effects from trying to work long after work’s expiration date.

The second retiree mindset is is to retire early.

These people say goodbye to the workplace, abandon the alarm clock (because as a wise person once told me, “I don’t like to be alarmed”), and spend their days in gratitude that they have some combination of the magic triangle on their side. 

They have plenty of time, and if they were careful and lucky they still have their health. And—this is key—they’ve made a conscious decision to live within their means.

They understand a fundamental constraint: with few exceptions, we cannot have everything. These folks are aware of that and they exercise their freedoms accordingly.

Purpose is the Plan

The thing that differentiates this group—the mindset that enables them to retire at all—is that they have a vision of purpose.

They take stock of what seems vital and interesting to them, and they choose those things as their reason to go forward, to define the meaning of their existence.

They identify what is meaningful to them and build their lives around it. Freed from the necessity of full-time work, they become writers, painters, musicians, travelers—sometimes all at once. Others teach, mentor, or contribute in ways that extend beyond themselves.

These folks have three things in common:

First, they are acutely aware that their time is finite.
Second, they use their freedom to pursue meaning.
Third, they recognize that the deepest meaning often comes from contributing to others.

I realize, obviously, that you are probably not independently wealthy, carefree, and in your 20s. I certainly am not. I am simply saying do the best you can, with your decisions and your time, in light of your finitude.

When you are young, invest in your future.
Avoid decisions that limit your freedom.
Take time to explore what truly matters to you.
Don’t make decisions that will curtail your freedom.

Take the time to explore and enjoy your life to the best of your ability, to learn what it is that actually does interest you; what pursuits are worthy of your precious time.

At every stage of life:

Preserve your freedom.
Be grateful for the improbable and ineffable gift of consciousness.
Engage fully with life.

While you still can.



My novel, The Calling is available now in print and as an eBook.


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To learn more about how to use these concepts or to inquire about working with me, go to the Jeff W Welsh website, subscribe to my Substack or Medium accounts or the Hardcore Happiness blog page, and follow my Instagram account for regular thoughts and insights.




- JWW