We are all in a taxi going to the airport to catch a flight home. Our plane leaves in two hours, but the driver suddenly informs us that we are no closer than four hours away.

Last week I was stressing. My breathing was shallow, my heart rate slightly accelerated, my mind completely unable to focus on what was in front of me. Why? I had a business deadline I simply had to meet. If I pulled an all niter, I devised, I could get it done.

A few days ago, I spoke with my Grampy on the phone. Funny how, separated by fifty years and an entire continent, our minds still sync. Having become a widow in the past year and recently experiencing chemotherapy himself, he said to me, "You never know when there's gonna be no tomorrow. Your friends might disappear, your health might let you down...Makes you really appreciate today."

The profound and simple words of a 76 year old Michigan farmer.

A feisty 28 year old gypsy might state it more like this: All deadlines are subconscious death wishes. There is only one ending we can work toward for certain. They're called deadlines for a reason.

Most hustling, scrambling, and overdoing is really a fear of death. As if by having more experiences, being more successful, living a jam packed life, we can somehow evade death and achive immortal status. I chose to miss my deadline a week ago and got a full nite’s sleep instead. And a strange new mantra emerged that oddly enough, eases this Thinking That It Matters Compulsion: "You're gonna die anyway."

We can keep pulling all niters, breathing shallowly, checking our watches and stressing all the way to the damn airport, if we like. Or we can sit back, roll down a window and take in the scenery. We’re all gonna miss our plane someday. How is your taxi ride gonna be in the meantime?

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