10-28-2009, 03:00 PM
Ask me again in 30 years. By preference, ask me again in 200 years.
All I know is that there always more things that I would like to do than there is time in which to do them. Maybe that changes later. Maybe I learn to play an instrument and the magic goes away and I no longer feel like learning any other instruments. Maybe it just gets hard to get excited about a new 5 year project when you're already 82. I dunno. In every story where there's an immortal character, they almost always complain about how boring and predictable life gets until they just wish they could die. I always suspected that if immortality was an option, it would probably be a good long while before I was bored. I think perhaps it's our own recognition of our mortality that can suck the fun out of some things. Like, if I had a reasonable prospect of another 200 years of good health ahead of me, I'd pick up a new career ASAP. I'd steal Dustie's idea and go buy a ship and run cargo up and down the coast. If it doesn't work out, well hell, I'll still have 195 years ahead of me to try something else. Still have 195 years to settle down with.
When it starts to feel like a race with the clock, priorities start to change. That much I can see already. Very long term projects that I could potentially try sound less interesting to me now than they did when I was 20. Maybe they're still on my list of things I would like to do, but they're further down than they used to be (and things like "save money and retire early while I still have good health" begin to claim the top spot). It's a bit of a demotivator to realize you don't have all the time in the universe ahead of you.
So basically I'm saying I don't think passion is limited, strictly speaking. I think if science stepped forward and told John Cleese and the old hippies that hooray, you're going to be restored to full youth and you'll live for another 500 years, they'd spring right back into full enthusiasm. It's not that passion is limited, it's that life is limited, and as we see ourselves moving closer to the end of the road we're a bit less excited about the journey.
All I know is that there always more things that I would like to do than there is time in which to do them. Maybe that changes later. Maybe I learn to play an instrument and the magic goes away and I no longer feel like learning any other instruments. Maybe it just gets hard to get excited about a new 5 year project when you're already 82. I dunno. In every story where there's an immortal character, they almost always complain about how boring and predictable life gets until they just wish they could die. I always suspected that if immortality was an option, it would probably be a good long while before I was bored. I think perhaps it's our own recognition of our mortality that can suck the fun out of some things. Like, if I had a reasonable prospect of another 200 years of good health ahead of me, I'd pick up a new career ASAP. I'd steal Dustie's idea and go buy a ship and run cargo up and down the coast. If it doesn't work out, well hell, I'll still have 195 years ahead of me to try something else. Still have 195 years to settle down with.
When it starts to feel like a race with the clock, priorities start to change. That much I can see already. Very long term projects that I could potentially try sound less interesting to me now than they did when I was 20. Maybe they're still on my list of things I would like to do, but they're further down than they used to be (and things like "save money and retire early while I still have good health" begin to claim the top spot). It's a bit of a demotivator to realize you don't have all the time in the universe ahead of you.
So basically I'm saying I don't think passion is limited, strictly speaking. I think if science stepped forward and told John Cleese and the old hippies that hooray, you're going to be restored to full youth and you'll live for another 500 years, they'd spring right back into full enthusiasm. It's not that passion is limited, it's that life is limited, and as we see ourselves moving closer to the end of the road we're a bit less excited about the journey.