Time Waits For No Man (To Himself)

Blog, To Himself

“Stop whatever you’re doing for a moment and ask yourself: Am I afraid of death because I won’t be able to do this anymore?” —Marcus Aurelius

Time waits for no man. 

This is something my father always said, though perhaps misinterpreted on his behalf. The sentiment stands true to its core meaning, however, in that death is coming to us all. Perhaps in our later years, peacefully, in our sleep; perhaps in a hospital bed after suffering illness and disease; or perhaps still by some random disaster, accident, or freak occurrence, as early as tomorrow or the next day.

The only thing guaranteed to us in this life is that it surely runs out, and we have no control over the how and when. The one true currency that cannot be earned, manipulated, or regained in any way. Though sadly this currency is constantly spent without any means of earning back the loss, we can make sure its invested wisely and spent on the things that matter most to us.

In short, the only things we should be spending our time on are the things that make us smile. The things that enhance our lives while we have them. Should we waste time on relationships where the partner is unequal in their effort to bring happiness? Should we grind our souls down to dust as we work mindlessly for pounds and pence?

There is no true reason, no true sense, in spending our time in any area where the investment doesn’t have the kind of pay off that brings peace and happiness to our souls. 

Of course this can, and indeed should, involve career advancement, education, and the accumulation of wealth, but only insofar as our needs are met and we fall asleep smiling.

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 property and money, yet think too little of wasting time, the one thing about which we should all be the toughest misers.” —Seneca

In the knowledge that our lives are most certainly ending, with each passing second, minute, and hour, we must do our best to savour those precious moments. Seek out the thrilling, the impactful, the powerful. Find meaning in the moment, work in accordance with our desires and dreams, and waste no time on the painful, the wasteful, or the meaningless.

While we have no control over our end, or no clue of how much time we have left, we hold a firm grip of how we spend that fleeting gift, regardless of whether that time is as little as a day or as much as another fifty years. 

We must take it upon ourselves to remind ourselves of our mortality in each moment we feel unsatisfied with our lives. We must take control of our time with as much efficiency as we can manage. We must remember that every time we lend our time to others, we are giving the most precious gift of all.

Time, truly, waits for no man.

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Introducing ‘To Himself.’

Blog, To Himself

I’ve always been inspired by the works of Marcus Aurelius and the great stoics of ancient times. Big thinkers with exceptional minds and ideas. I’ve read Marcus’s ‘Meditations‘ probably 30 times throughout my life, and I always come back to it when I start to feel a little lost.

For a long time now I’ve had the idea to journal in a similar way to what we see in Meditations, small passages scribbled down as reminders to myself. In the morning before going about my day, in the evening to reflect upon the happenings of the day, in the midst of crisis, during a period of love or immense joy. A growing collection of words inspired by and bought about by the very act of life itself.

This is what I’m going to do here. And I honestly can’t wait to dive right in and get started. I’ll admit this first entry for you is one I wrote back in the winter, when I first came up with the idea. That said, it was, and always will be, the natural birthing point of this ever-growing collection of self-talk. So without any further ado, I present you: To Himself.


A wintery photo of a frozen lake and snowy woodland
IG: @the_explorer_guy_uk

It would be easy to remain in the warm comfort of the sheets, allowing the mind to continue swirling in intricate visions of the imagination, and the soul to wander the outer-realms without a care, but of course with all journeys of transcendence and imagination, such as sleep, or meditation, there comes the moment where it must once again crash into the realities of the outside world. Such confrontation is only rendered more difficult in the autumns and winters, with the harsh coldness of the world outside—with it’s miserable weeping skies and it’s drab, low hanging greyness erasing all memory of the beautiful summer mornings we enjoyed a few sweet blinks before. 

To stay put atop that mattress while the radiators swell with heat and delay the responsibilities of the day just by another hour is the most alluring whisper. The seductive and powerful whisper of our shadow-selves. ‘Sleep through any notion of what must be done,’ he tells us, ‘It’ll wait a little longer.’ 

But that’s what it comes down to in the end. What must be done. Whichever time that alarm bell chimes is the time we’ve committed ourselves to waking the night before, and with it, all that would be done in those waking hours. To ignore that and roll over, to hit ‘snooze’ and groan your dismay at the hideous ringing, is to shun, and ignore, and hate on only yourself and the decisions you’ve made for your own wellbeing. It’s not the alarm that’s telling you to get up and meet the world head on, it’s you. The master of the device, the master of the decision, the master of the mind… You.

This is the moment of utmost importance in the day. The very first decision we get to make for ourselves. Will it be a success, or a failure? To set the day up atop a failure is to build a home out of sand in the midst of a rising tide, to tell ourselves that our decisions aren’t important, our desires aren’t concrete. We only serve to set up a pattern for the day. A pattern of failure and questions and shady distrust in ourselves. While yet to build the day atop a success is no less promising than the thick stone foundations of the ancient castles that still stand vast among our European landscapes, hundreds if not thousands of years later, each block laid finding comfort and security in the integrity of the blocks placed before it. 

We must trust ourselves. We must leave that warm bed and confront the cold outdoors. No matter how tired, no matter how comfortable. We must meet our responsibilities with an iron resolve and a laser-sharp focus, with an outsiders look at the overall picture of our lives. The more we commit to routine and ritual the less tough decisions need to be made along the way. The more we succeed in following through with our word, the stronger our resolve becomes. 

The shorter our journey becomes. 


There we have it, the first entry in many just like this. If you enjoyed this piece of writing be sure to hit that follow button so you’re notified every time there’s a new entry. I’ll be posting to the ‘To Himself’ project as often as possible. In the meantime, I write a ton of content for Vocal, which you can check out here. I’ve got fiction, lifestyle, writing tips, and pretty much everything in between.

Until next time… sleep well, arise better.