What Will You Do with This Moment?

I was recently in the Orkney Islands, Scotland. 

We visited Skara Brae, a Neolithic village from 3200 BCE. One of Europe’s most complete stone settlements.

A 5,000-year-old community!

Imagine that.

Older than the pyramids. 

Older than Stonehenge.

The eight or ten houses were discovered in 1850. They had been buried under sand dunes for millennia, preserved until a storm tore away the grass that was covering their story. Stone structures, shelves for storing stone implements, drainage systems, and tunnels connecting them together are all still intact.

Archaeologists have found bone pins, antler picks, pendants, amulets, cooking pots, and pottery shards in the earth there.

And there I was, 5,000 years later—on a summer vacation—walking around in dry-fit clothes and waterproof trail shoes, SPF 45 on my face, taking pictures with a cell phone and marveling at their ingenuity.

When you come face-to-face with an archaic world, it makes you think about your own life.

It makes one consider the small things that you tend to worry about.

The things I waste time doing.

The questions that keep me up at night.

It’s easy to become all-consumed by the events of our own existence: To act as if the sun revolves around our small lives.

What gets you caught up in your own, tiny world?

Do you have a health issue you are worried about?

A relationship that is on your mind?

A job that may be perplexing you?

Here is the cure for worries: Visit a 5,000-year-old village and it will change your perspective.

It helps you realize that 100 years from now—and 5,000—none of us will still be here.

In fact, Skara Brae used to be on a freshwater loch—and now after centuries of erosion, it’s on the Bay of Skaill.

Standing at Skara Brae made me realize that in the grand scheme of things, we are here for just a moment. 

As they say, we live in the dash between our birth and our death.

Sure, our lives matter—to us and those around us. 

But those people who built that community thought their lives mattered too. They had no idea their entire way of life would simply... end.

No one knows what brought life at Skara Brae to an end or why they eventually abandoned this village. They believe it was abandoned around 2,500 BC, when the climate got colder and wetter. They believe the 50 or so residents left in a rush, because they left behind beloved necklaces and objects made of walrus ivory and bone.

I bet those Skara Brae families worried about how they might come to their end. They probably fretted about the unpredictability of the weather, the uncertainty of their food supply, and the health of their children and families.

Picture those villagers of Skara Brae sitting around the fire…and imagine what they talked about. 

Did they ponder what was next for them? Did they worry about the next season? Did they discuss the meaning of life with each other? 

Did they ever wonder about what we might think of them long after they were gone?

I’m sure that their worries felt massive and all-consuming—just like ours do. But zooming out to consider this 5,000-year-old timeline can shift your perspective for sure. 

It made me recognize that a lot of what we argue about, fret about, or argue about just isn’t important.

We are here for a fleeting moment.

But the interesting thing about impermanence is that impermanence doesn’t have to be a negative thing.

It doesn’t have to be feared.

It can actually be quite freeing. 

Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh once said, “Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible.”

When we recognize that we’re here for a brief blink, that realization can inspire new things in us.

Our very understanding of what it means to be human can shift.

Perhaps it can help us stop worrying so much about things outside of our control. Perhaps it can help us take a broader view. Perhaps it can help us learn to be that much more intentional with how we spend this moment right in front of us. 

What do you want to do with your dash?

What do you want in this short time you have here on the planet?

And can you see how precious and beautifully temporary this moment is?

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