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!
This baby’s nickname was Pinocchio and check out what he looks like years later
From the moment little Olli Tresiz came into the world, it was clear he was unique, bearing the rare and intricate condition known as encephalocell. This distinctive trait marked the outset of a challenging journey toward finding medical solutions tailored to his needs.
As Olli’s journey progressed, his growing nose revealed a vulnerability: even minor injuries posed a grave threat, potentially triggering meningitis.
Realizing the seriousness of Olli’s situation, physicians strongly advised a crucial medical intervention to mitigate the risks associated with his condition.
Fortunately, the medical procedure proved effective, not only addressing the specific challenges of encephalocell but also significantly enhancing Olli’s respiratory capacity.
This pivotal moment marked a significant shift for the young lad, presenting him with an opportunity for a life marked by improved health and greater comfort.
In a bold act of both bravery and advocacy, Olli’s mother chose to unveil her son’s tale to the world. Taking to the vast expanse of the internet, she shared a heartfelt photo of Olli, shining a light on the rare medical circumstances that can find resolution through medical interventions.
The online community responded with an overwhelming display of solidarity, flooding the digital realm with well-wishes and hopes for Olli’s swift recovery.
This virtual embrace not only offered solace to the Tresiz family but also underscored the power of collective compassion and understanding in the face of exceptional medical trials.
Olli’s voyage, from the intricate labyrinth of encephalocell to the triumphant strides of medical intervention, stands as a testament to the strides made in medical science and the indomitable spirit of those confronting uncommon ailments.
Through the dissemination of awareness and shared narratives, Olli’s narrative has blossomed into a wellspring of inspiration, nurturing empathy and optimism within the online sphere and beyond.
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