Skimming the Edge of Existence

Imagine skimming through the decades of your life, not just planning a week or even a year ahead, but looking far enough forward that you’re skimming the edge of your existence.

One day, not so far off, I did exactly that—half-dazed, scrolling through my calendar, flipping from 2024 to 2033, then to 2045, 2099… on and on, as if looking for something. All I wanted was to lay out my week, ease the stress of now by building a map of later. But as the years blurred by, something unsettling hit me—one of these dates will be my last.

I realized, in that empty scrolling, how often I give in to the distractions and trivial worries that won’t even leave a trace. I worry about work deadlines, where I stand with other people, what I’ll achieve, and how I’ll measure up—all these pieces I’m so convinced are urgent, but if I took a step back, I’d see them for what they are: temporary. There’s no milestone waiting in some distant year that will magically make any of it feel lasting. I can climb ladders, collect accolades, “make it” a thousand times over, and yet all of it will evaporate, all of it.

So I’m left asking: what’s worth holding onto in all this? What am I actually building? The answer, as stark as it is freeing, is simple. There’s only one place where I’ve found any foundation worth depending on, and that’s in the pursuit of something unshakeable, something deeper than all the markers and milestones. For me, it’s in my faith, in a constant I can’t fabricate or control.

I won’t pretend this perspective fixes everything—life won’t suddenly stop demanding my time, or my focus, or my strength. But it reframes things. It’s no longer about trying to carry the weight of every year ahead but finding a reason in today, a reason that doesn’t depend on how far I get or how much I gather. It’s about stepping back from the shallow grind and asking the questions that go deeper: What am I actually building? And who am I becoming through it?

So yes, I’ll keep making plans, and yes, I’ll still feel the weight of today. But now I’ve got a compass that’s pointing me somewhere that even time can’t touch. It’s not about letting go of the world or denying the struggle; it’s about leaning into something that outlasts every frantic pursuit and shallow ambition. Because at the end of the scroll, it’s not the dates that matter—it’s the depth of what I’ve built inside them.