The Urgency of Becoming: Acting on the Life You Imagine

Sorry for the delay in writing another blog; i know you all have been missing me and visiting this page frequently to check if i posted a vlog.....but dont worry here it is! 

So last week, I lost a family member. Death is never easy, no matter how many times we tell ourselves that it’s part of life. But this time, something struck me differently. I’ve always known, as we all do, that we are mortal. Yet knowing it and feeling it are two completely different things. When you see death closely—when someone you love suddenly becomes a memory—it reshapes the way you see everything. You realize that our time here isn’t just limited; it’s fragile. We talk as if we have decades ahead of us, as if the years will unfold neatly in sequence. But the truth is, we don’t know whether we have fifty years, five, or even five days. And even if we live a “long” life, it passes with unbelievable speed.

Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, wrote in his Meditations: “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” He wasn’t being morbid. He was reminding himself—and us—that awareness of mortality should sharpen our focus, not dull our spirit. It should light a fire under every idea, dream, and version of ourselves that we keep postponing for “someday.”

We live like we’re going to live twice. We store ideas in our minds like keepsakes—things we’ll “get around to” once the timing is right. But there’s never a perfect time. The illusion of having more time kills more dreams than failure ever will. Seneca said, “It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it.” We scroll, we hesitate, we plan endlessly but act rarely. We let fear of imperfection hold us back. Yet the clock is always moving. Every thought you’ve had about the kind of person you wish to be—the fitter version of you, the creative version of you, the courageous version of you—that person only exists if you act.

Want to build a device? Build it. Want to run a faster 40-yard dash? Train for it. Want to hold a conversation with confidence? Start one. Want to learn to play the piano? Sit down and start pressing the keys. Want to write a book? Open your laptop and type the first sentence. Want to travel the world? Book a ticket, even if it’s just to the next city. Want to get in shape? Go for a run today, not tomorrow. Want to reconnect with someone you care about? Pick up the phone and call them. Want to start a business? Sketch the idea on paper and take the first real step. Want to learn Italian? Stop saying “ciao” and start saying full sentences. Want to grow a beard? Stop shaving and let destiny take over.

Perfection is not the goal—completion is. Because the moment you act, you transform thought into reality. And the act of creation, no matter how small, is the purest way of honoring the limited time you’ve been given.

The Stoics believed that the purpose of philosophy was not to debate endlessly, but to live better. Epictetus taught that philosophy is “a way of life”—a discipline of action, not abstraction. He said, “Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.” That’s the essence of it. If your inner voice says, “I want to be someone who creates, who grows, who becomes,” then don’t just think it—do it. Life is not waiting for you to become ready. Life is happening now, second by second, whether you move or not.

Every moment of hesitation is a missed opportunity to write your story. The death of someone I loved reminded me that there are no rehearsals—this is it. The show has already begun. The world, in all its vastness, is still your oyster—but you have to pry it open. You have to act, to build, to speak, to fail, to learn, to become. Don’t be the floating bag that drifts wherever the current takes it. Be the sailor who sets his own course. Marcus Aurelius said, “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.”

So whatever you’ve been putting off—start it now. You owe it to yourself, to the ones who never got the chance, and to the short but beautiful life you still have to live.