Tag Archives: Time

– Fleeting

There will always be someone who is better than you in every worldly sense, someone with more money, more success, a better career, a bigger house, a nicer car, or a life that looks more beautiful from the outside. But you, as a person, know who you truly are and how good of a human being you are when no one is watching. Most of the time, simply because we are born into a certain place, family, or privilege, we grow up believing that we are entitled to everything life has to offer. And I am not saying we should be ungrateful for what we have, because gratitude matters. But sometimes I wonder, what are we really? When everything is stripped away, are we anything more than bones, skin, a beating heart, and a soul trying to make sense of this life?

Why is it so easy for us to forget that time is constantly slipping through our fingers like sand, while we are busy chasing things that will eventually mean nothing? We need to spend more time becoming better human beings, because people will not remember your looks or worldly possessions. They will remember how you treated them, how you made them feel, how you showed up when they needed you, and how much kindness you left behind. And when you are gone, none of the material things you spent your life chasing will matter anymore. What will remain is the love you gave, the lives you touched, and the person you chose to be while you were here. That is the only legacy that truly lives beyond us 🤍

Sehr

Places, People, Moments: The Beauty of Impermanence

“ But if you knew, you might not be able to see it again tomorrow, everything would suddenly become special and precious, wouldn’t it?”

— Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami

We move through life assuming continuity—believing the places we love will stay, the people we cherish will remain, and the moments we live will repeat themselves. But what if they don’t?

This quote from Kafka on the Shore is a quiet reminder of impermanence. It urges us to see the beauty in the ordinary, to treat today not as another page in a never-ending book, but as a fragile, irreplaceable chapter.

That hallway in your childhood home where the light always falls a certain way. The friend you always assume you’ll see next weekend. The elder who would guide you with their wisdom won’t be sitting at the table again as they did. The lazy Sunday morning filled with silence and coffee. They might not be there tomorrow. Not in the same way.

We often chase big dreams and future plans, but perhaps the real magic lies in the small things we take for granted. Noticing them. Being present for them. Valuing them—not because they are rare, but because they are fleeting.

So next time you’re with someone you love, or in a moment that feels simple and still, pause. Soak it in. Because knowing it might not come again doesn’t make it sad—it makes it sacred.