Why aren't you doing it already?

Most people don’t change their lives until something forces them to.

A diagnosis. A breakup. A near-death experience. The collapse of something they thought was solid.

It’s only then, after a major life event, when the illusion of permanence falls apart, that many of us finally ask the real questions:

What am I doing with my life?

Why have I waited so long for the “right moment”?

Who’s life was I living?

In hospice care, patients often share a version of the same regret.

They ask themselves why they wasted so much of their lives worrying about the wrong things.

Why didn’t they do the things that truly mattered to them

The question that haunts isn’t “what happened to me?”

It’s “why didn’t I step fully in?

We’re blocked by invisible forces— fear, doubt, and all the reasons we give ourselves.

But those things are not out there. They live in here.

We don’t live in the world as it is. We live in the world as we ‘think’ it is—constructed inside the mind.

Thinking it into reality.

We live in a sphere of hesitation, shaped by beliefs we’ve never thought to question.

To feel safe, we wrap ourselves in the comfort of our justifications—and tell ourselves we’ll leap later— after the next promotion, after the kids are older, after the world calms down.

But the cycles of life keep moving.

And so do we—deeper into the lives we’ve built, into the roles we’ve accepted, and the compromises we’ve stopped noticing.

There’s a concept called escalating risk paradox:

Imagine a man grabs a rope tethered to a runaway hot air balloon. At first, he’s just a few feet off the ground. He could let go with minimal injury.

But each second he holds on, the balloon rises higher. The risk escalates. And so does the fear.

By the time he realizes he should let go, it’s too dangerous.

So he hangs on.

Even if the balloon lowers in altitude, passes close to a tall tree, glides over a body of water close to land, he hesitates.

And then it’s too late to let go.

We do the same thing.

We stay in relationships that don’t nourish us.

We keep jobs that slowly dim our inner light.

We tell ourselves we’ll change “when the time is right,” even as our soul quietly withers.

Our real danger isn't falling.

It’s forgetting we have the option to let go.

Over time, we settle into “good enough,” into “I’ll just get through,” into “maybe one day,” or “just after (fill in the blank)...”

Maybe someone used to paint or write but now sees their desire as selfish.

Or a business owner feels it’s too late to pivot.

Maybe we are using age as an excuse.

Or maybe we just lack laughter, presence, or time with loved ones.

Yet nothing truly stops us—except a mind that mistakes fear for fact.

Over time, these beliefs settle in like furniture—so familiar we forget they’re even there, and that we are the ones who built this invisible barrier.

Here’s the truth: You don’t need to set your life on fire or disappear into the abyss—just begin moving quietly toward what lights you up.

No need for big announcements.

Quietly learn that instrument. Sketch the flower shop you always dreamed of opening. Gently follow the thread of passion.

But be careful not to let the ego muddy the water. Don’t let it co-opt your joy as another strategy to save itself.

You’re not playing that game anymore. Not the game of ego rescue, self improvement—the game of surviving life…

You’re playing a much bigger game now—the game of paying tribute to this life by fully living it. And something strange happens when you do. Something floods in—a force so strong, it burns everything else away.

It’s too powerful for your old wiring to carry.

Your doubts dissolve. They seem small next to this current––this force—I call LOVE. But give it whatever name you like.

Astronauts have a similar experience they call the overview effect—that moment when they look back at Earth from space and see the whole thing suspended in darkness.

No borders. No noise. Just one fragile, glowing orb.

They feel a deep, overwhelming love for the planet, for humanity, for the miracle of being alive at all.

That’s what I believe these life events do. A rupture that clears the fog, and suddenly, you see how precious this is.

You can choose to live today the way you wish you had lived all along.

You can be more alive in this life you’re already living.

Can you notice the way the sunlight filters through the trees on your commute?

Can you be fully present while pouring your coffee?

Can you laugh today? Dance?

Explore that relationship your logical mind dismissed— it may open your heart in ways you can’t imagine.

Try telling someone you love them like you mean it?

Follow your passion, your excitement—the things that light you up.

You don’t need a diagnosis to realize time is precious.