A lot of big, tragic and important things have happened to this wonderful country of ours since April 2014. None of which I have covered. I was too busy writing about hungover parenting, ancient philosophy and my dog Colin.
Out of the 536 columns I have written, 27 were about that guy. Far too few. He is such a good boy, he deserves an article a week.
Today is the end of an era for me, and whenever these final events pop up in our lives, we can’t help but think about the ultimate end.
Everything we do, we will one day do for the last time. That’s why you have to enjoy things while they are around. It’s not just big events like leaving a job, house or loved one either. Whatever moment you happen to be in now, you will never get it back, and you don’t know how many more you have.
Everything we do in life, from eating pizza to spending time with the people we love, to driving, writing, drinking or breathing, we will one day experience for the final time. It might happen tomorrow. This can be either a depressing or an inspiring thought, depending on how you look at it.
A few years back in this column, I interviewed professor of philosophy William B Irvine, of Wright State University, Ohio, on this very topic. He put it this way on a Zoom call: “Recognition of the impermanence of everything in life can invest the things we do with a significance and intensity that would otherwise be absent. The only way we can be truly alive is if we make it our business periodically to entertain thoughts of the end.”
Today’s column is very meaningful to me because it is my last. Like the last night with a lover before she goes overseas. And just like a lover, there have been some half-arsed efforts put in from me over the years. Last week, for example, I spent 750 words moaning about how bad my cricket team is. But the truth is that any of my columns could have been the final. If I had reminded myself every week for the past 10 years that the end is inevitable, I may have been more grateful for having a column and appreciated writing them all as much as I am this one.
While everything we do could have more meaning with a focus on finitude, some things are inherently more worthwhile than others. There is no doubt my column “The pros and cons of wearing Speedos” from November 2022 was less meaningful than most things in this world. That was a waste of everyone’s time. So, if we only have so much time, how do we pick the best things to do?
Well, Oliver Burkeman, the author of Four Thousand Weeks – Time Management For Mortals, suggested this to me in a 2022 column: “Ask yourself, does this choice enlarge me? You usually know on some unspoken level if it does. That’s a good way to distinguish between options.”
With that in mind, I don’t feel great about my 2018 article on “New Zealand’s best hole”. That didn’t enlarge anyone.
There will be people reading this column right now who have loved my writing in the Herald and are sad to see it end. Others will have hated it and are glad to see me go. Many won’t have any opinion at all. But for those in the first camp, I have good news. I have a book coming out on May 28 called A Life Less Punishing – 13 Ways To Love The Life You Got (Allen and Unwin Book Publishers). It’s a deep dive into the history, philosophy and science of not wasting our time lost in anger, loneliness, humiliation, stress, fear, boredom and all the other ways we find to not enjoy perfectly good lives. It’s available for pre-order right now (google it if you’re interested).
A Life Less Punishing took me two years to write and is equivalent in words to 100 of these columns. Which would be a complete nightmare for those in the hate camp, but as I say, great news for those who want more.
Anyway, thanks to the Herald for having me, thanks to the lovely people who make an effort to say nice things to me about my column nearly every day and thanks to the universe for every single second we get.
Bless!
The two sisters went on stage and performed the legendary song, which was well received
“Without you” by Mariah Carey was the 1990s’ biggest hit. Since then, many have attempted to emulate this singer’s success and outperform the original, but very few have been successful. Singing the vocally demanding composition at least at a level required a great deal of work.
You may be shocked to learn that little Anastasia and Victoria Petrik are the only Odessans who have accomplished this. The oldest girl, Vika, was sixteen at the time of the performance, and her sister was eleven. Nobody could have predicted their level of intensity and penetration when they took the stage to sing, but their voice enthralled the crowd from the very first note. Of them, the youngest was only six years old, and the oldest was fourteen. With the help of this challenging song, they were both able to showcase their talents. The jury was first skeptical of them because no one had ever tried that song before, and they knew it wouldn’t be successful. These sisters entered the stage looking confident and well-united.
The jury felt that they ought to put on a routine display upon seeing them. But when girls with strong, endearing voices appeared on stage, the impression shifted and took a different turn. They were quick to understand and supportive of one another. even at that age. However, the fact remained the fact, and the performance was tremendous, all right. Thousands of hearts were won over by their voice as it echoed across the hall. People’s hearts were touched by every note of their music, evoking powerful feelings and ideas. They emerged as the day’s standout performers and victors thanks to their exceptional voice. They received appreciation as well. Along with highlighting the fact that the real vocalist and the asexual voice data were being imitated, it was also covered by major publications and television. Without inhibition, without excitement, and without hesitation, they submitted their number hand in hand. A performance like that truly merited praise and the title of victory. The jury’s perspective and way of thinking were only altered by them.
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