How to Feel Small
Thoughts on What’s Important
Big Places
I want to show you three pictures that I really, really love.
The first picture is from Sequoia National Park in California.
The second is from Glacier National Park in Montana.
The third is from Arches National Park in Utah.
It’s near impossible to describe these places, but I’ll do my best:
Big. Huge. Ginormous. Ancient. Incredible. Wonderful. Terrifying (especially if you don’t know whether or not bears are near!) And some of our favorite places on earth.
I’m closing my eyes right now, and I can barely even remember what these places looked like.
But I do remember the feeling.
The feeling when you catch your breath – somewhere between awestruck and awful.
The feeling you never want to let go – because it’s possible that it will never be this way again.
I love these places and pictures because they make me feel tiny. They put me in my place.
Zoom In & Zoom Out
I invite you to waste a solid 5 minutes of your life. Go ahead. No one cares!
- Click here: The Size of Space
- And then here: The Deep Sea
I’m nauseous. Are you nauseous?
I’m somewhere in between thrilled and terrified. I cannot fathom the immensity of space and the sea. My funny bone feels… funny.
There’s a quote on here that says:
More people have been to the moon than to the deepest parts of the ocean
Imagine?
Imagine knowing more about that tiny white ball floating in outer space than something that exists right here on this earth?
I love these sites because they give me perspective. The enormity and the vastness around us are incredible.
Here & Gone
We don’t have kids (yet).
Some of my closest friends might know that I’ve been fairly resistant to kiddos.
Kids seem fun and all, but there’s nothing quite like trying to hang out with friends with kids. A little chat mixed in with lots of interruptions.
Damnit, I’m coming off pretty judgemental aren’t I?
Despite my resistance, we recently started talking about a timeline (mom, if you are reading this – chilllll!)
Once we started mapping it out, I was struck by how fast it all seems to go.
A Hypothetical Timeline:
- First kid at 33
- When they turn 18, I’ll be 51 (red alert)
- And if they wait to have kids until their early 30s, I’ll be 63ish by the time I’m a grandfather.
- And if they wait to have kids until their 30s, well, there’s a low chance I stick around that long.
I can’t say a goal of mine has been to meet my great-grandchildren.
But that was fast, right? Two generations and poof! I’m nothing but a memory.
Nothing but the random-ass wordpress blog you somehow found yourself perusing.
How you found yourself here is truly beyond me.
Comically Short
There’s a guy a lot of people like named Tim Urban.
He’s famous for his blog Wait Buy Why and his new book (that I haven’t read but is on my list!)
He wrote a blog post examining our life in weeks. You should read it. Arguably, way more important than reading this. In fact, if you are still reading this for some odd reason, email me at [email protected] I will personally send you $5.
Anyway.
The summary of that post: if you see your life laid out in weeks – on a literal calendar – you may need to find a trash can to throw up in (just me?)
Here is my life in weeks as of this writing (16-Oct-2023).
Each box represents a week. Red means complete. Gray boxes are remaining.
I’m on week 1,617 of 4,000 (40%)
Where’s it all gone? And how’s it gone so fast? Am I the only one yelling!?
Sometimes life moves uncomfortably fast.
Have you ever caught yourself saying:
How is it already December?
It’s always too soon to be whatever month you’re in.
Other times, it moves dreadfully slow:
Think about the night before something exciting or new. Can you believe we sleep for 8 literal hours? That’s too long!
Either way, we actually have finite time.
Oliver Burkeman wrote a book where he figured that the average human lifespan is 4,000 weeks.
In other words, laughably, comically short.
If Burkeman is right, I’m 1,617 of 4,000 or 40% of the way done.
Oof.
I like the life in weeks visual because I get a sense of urgency.
I’ve got a lot of life left (hopefully).
But a lot of time has passed.
See your life in weeks here. And don’t start yelling in your local coffee shop – people might look at you funny.
Somewhere in a Cave
I recently finished a book called Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind.
I may someday write a longer post about what I learned or how it impacted me, but I probably won’t (let’s be honest).
Spoiler – it reads like a textbook but is really good.
There’s a section near the beginning with this picture:
This is called Cueva de las Manos – Cave of the Hands – in Argentina. It’s estimated to be about 9,000 years old.
It’s just outlines of hands.
But I imagine a human.
Probably nothing like me.
Maybe somewhat similar.
Standing.
On this earth.
9,000 years ago.
Leaving a mark.
Perhaps meaning to say something like,
I was here.
And they were here. We – some version of people – have been here for several thousands of years.
And a majority of them are but a relic, somewhere in Argentina waiting to be discovered by the current version of us.
I like this image because it moves me. We are here one day and gone the next.
OK – What’s Your Point?
“Ok,” you may be wondering, “so what?”
“So what” is that we’ve got limited time.
It’s time to get going or forgiving or trying or failing or talking or believing or insert whatever you have been thinking about for a long time.
We are a speck on the timeline.
We are micro compared to 275 foot trees in California or 12,000ft depths of the ocean.
There are very few rules about how we’re supposed to go about things.
Some human (or robot) in the year 11,023 may someday find your 2023 Instagram timeline on whatever internet console exists in human brains and they will say,
Wow, they really lived like that, didn’t they?
We really did.
I don’t know what’s important.
It varies.
But I love finding moments to feel small, to feel insignificant, to feel like a whisper.
Because it reminds me that this – right here – is all I’ve got.
