The quest for immortality
For a long time I was extremely focused on being the most productive I could be. This meant endless to-do lists, planning the goals for each year, and using a host of tools like evernote and notion to keep track of everything. Not to mention, I fueled myself with brain-enhancing nootropics to keep my energy levels consistent through the day with little to no breaks. Even my diets, like the ketogenic diet and water fasting, while first experiments of curiosity eventually became shameless tools for squeezing more juice out of the day.
These actions would allow me to be more successful and achieve my goals. This was admirable by society’s standards. But when I explore the real reason I was running so fast, the truth has nothing to do with success: I wanted to be immortal. Or put another way, I was afraid of death. You see, the urge to control my time was an attempt to escape the inevitable truth that my time is, in fact, limited.
While death was not at the forefront of my mind, in the moments where I was “doing nothing,” I felt like I was wasting my life. Shit, I need to make use of my time and answer all of these 100 emails as fast as I can so I can move on to the next thing. No wonder rich CEOs and biohackers munching on protein bars are building bunkers and considering cryogenics. They're all about instrumentalizing time, driven by the same fear.
You might see nothing harmful about this natural fear of death that propelled me forward. After all, it’s a driver for many of us. The problem with this view is that constantly trying to be more productive feels unsatisfying. Like you’re never actually getting “there,” wherever there is, and you miss most of life along the way. How can you be in the present moment when you never feel finished? Lunch breaks become fixed periods abruptly ended by the next task. Off to the next thing.
When I have an ever-growing list of unfinished tasks that require completion in order for me to feel like a good human being, there’s always a slight feeling of unease at this whole predicament called life. Is life really supposed to feel like a juggling act or a race? As meditation teacher Joseph Goldstein says, “we’re constantly leaning into the future.”
Let's get real—there's no finish line. Opportunities and distractions will keep knocking on your door, tempting you with Instagram reminders and whatnot. I recently met a sales manager who claimed he was "time poor." Sounds odd, right? He's got the same 24 hours as the rest of us! But what he meant was feeling like he never had enough time to do it all. It hit me that I was in denial about another uncomfortable truth: I can do anything, but I can't do everything. Life is all about choices. When you choose one thing, you let go of something else.
Chopping up time into tiny bits and chasing the perfect day won't change that reality. You don't need to conquer your fear of death, but accepting your human limitations is the key to escaping the productivity cult and that never-ending time pressure. Otherwise, you're stuck in purgatory.
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In Japan, there’s a group known as the hikikomori, the social recluses who withdraw from the world and barricade themselves within their homes. They embody the extreme end of a psychological spectrum where the weight of reality paralyzes them completely. The anxiety-inducing pressure to conform and to “be something” in society is so great for them that they simply can’t decide. Rather than risk disappointing their family, society or themselves by taking a chance and committing to a path, indecision is a more comfortable alternative, even if it means staying in their rooms. Of course, choosing to do nothing is a choice, too.
The antidote to embracing uncertainty isn’t locking yourself in your room, it’s accepting the mystery of life. In 1817 the English poet John Keats wrote a letter to his brothers talking about the concept of “negative capability.” In the letter, Keats wrote:
"I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason."
In other words, he encourages us to, amidst all of the things in this finite life, enjoy and accept it without reaching further. The fear of missing out – FOMO – is real. In order to go from FOMO to JOMO, or the joy of missing out, there is a simple beauty in embracing your limitations. That you can’t do everything.
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