A Momentary Reflection
On the temporal context of one's life.
Have you ever looked back on your life in terms of one moment’s relationship to another’s?
Or to compare your perspective to the perspectives of those who came before?
I do it all the time.
Then
Here’s an example: I was born 22 years and 28 days after the end of the Second World War. My father was 34 years old when I was born, and for him, that war was one of the most formative events of his life.
That was probably true for every American adult at that time, and they had endured much more since the end of the War.
The Korean War. The Vietnam War. The Cuban Missile Crisis. The assassination of John Kennedy.
And so much more was ahead in the next few years:
The assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy. The moon landing. Richard Nixon’s resignation.
And Now
For me and many others of my generation, a seminal moment was September 11, 2001. What a way to start a new century.
To make the comparison: A child born on October 9, 2023, was born as long after 9-11 as I was born after WWII.
One day, perhaps, that child, when grown, will look back in time and see that, after the horror of 9-11, her predecessors endured a lot, too, including a global pandemic and a failed attempt to overturn a U.S. election.
One day, perhaps, that grown child will look back and see the seminal moment of her life, too. Possibly the dismantling of American democracy, or a third global war, or some other trauma, and she’ll wonder about how those will look to the people who follow her.
For me, placing my life in the context of historical timelines helps to maintain some humility.
Ironically, I started practicing this about 22 years ago. A colleague at work said something that startled me. I don’t remember her exact words, but the gist was that we “modern humans” were living in the most dangerous time in our species' history.
As you might imagine, I was shocked, so I challenged her to support that argument. Her reasoning was broadly centered on our species’ ability to extinguish itself.
It was a reasonable argument, though I disagreed with her. Still, it made me think about how people throughout time might have viewed their own lives in the context of history.
As I age, I find this meditation increasingly useful. It centers me and prevents me from overstating the importance of any singular event.
I am reminded of the old Chinese proverb about the man whose horse runs off. Upon hearing this, his neighbors try to comfort him. “How terrible for you!” they say. “We’ll see,” he replies. The next day, his horse returns with two others. “How wonderful!” his friends cry. “We’ll see,” he replies.
The man’s son tries to ride one of the horses but is thrown and breaks his leg. “How awful!” “We’ll see.” The army arrives to conscript young men, but leaves the injured son alone. “How fantastic!”
We’ll see.