Yesterday I procrastinated, tinkered, and wasted time, doing nothing of any value.
Then this morning, I found out that one of my best friends died yesterday. He was out on a bike ride on a quiet street when a car swerved into the bike lane, killing him instantly.
We shared my online music account. I see he had just downloaded the entire Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young catalog yesterday before he left on his ride.
I’ve been crying off and on all morning, thinking about what we do with our time — what’s worthy and what’s a waste.
Time really is limited. We can’t pretend it’s not. Time spent doing one thing is time spent not doing something else.
It’s so easy to waste time doing stuff that’s not important, not really fun, and not useful to anyone, not even yourself.
It’s so hard to fight the resistance to do the more difficult but more important thing. Finishing that book. Writing that song. Launching that project.
I spent this morning thinking about what doesn’t matter and what does. For me, writing is about the most worthy thing I can do with my time. I love how the distributed word is eternal — that every day I get emails from strangers thanking me for things I wrote years ago that helped them today. I love how those things will continue to help people long after I’m gone.
My friend was a brilliant conversationalist, one of the brightest minds I’ve met, but he never put his thoughts into writing. It’s extra-sad that his thoughts are gone, too.
So this lesson is dedicated to you, Milt Olin. I’m going to start writing again.