House Money
Almost every time I’ve managed to wake up early this year, it has felt amazing. Well, naturally, the rolling-out-of-bed part hasn’t quite felt as energising, but the delayed gratification is certainly there.
The morning hours can feel like stolen time. A rare bonus feature that is only sometimes stumbled into. In the Thai summer, particularly, the golden window is small, but meaningful. Hit the beach early and you skip the crowds, the forty degree temperatures, and—for me at least—inevitable sunburn. The streets are quiet. The tide is high. The birds sing. Life is great.
Plus, the time feels borrowed. You’re playing with house money. Suddenly, it feels like you have added an extra day. Several hours have magically appeared in your schedule, free from commitments. Admittedly, this shouldn’t necessarily be the point—to feel like you’re using your time as a commodity. Yet, I could easily convince myself that each early-morning hour is twice as valuable as others later in the day.
I haven’t always had the opportunity to enjoy these coveted hours, but I’d predict they would pretty strongly correlate with some of my most cherished days from this year.
Every second should be infused with the freedom and verve of playing with house money. After all, our time truly is borrowed. All of it. We’re dying from the moment we’re born. It might sound nihilistic, but, if this attitude could permeate more of our days, we could give ourselves permission to do a whole lot more of what makes us feel most alive, whilst stressing a whole lot less.
Of course, I must acknowledge the elephant in the room—this truth doesn’t slide for us complex, storytelling humans. Perhaps not. But being reminded of this sentiment in just a couple of fleeting moments can bring you real joy. If you feel alive watching the sun rise, or while swimming in the ocean, immerse yourself in those things. Deferring your hard-earned joy to a later date has merit, but what if you’re not around anymore when it comes time to cash it all in? It might have dealt you these chips in the first place, but the house can’t promise you anything—besides maybe death itself.
On a far less morbid note—early mornings are great! Given that I’ve written this, I should easily be able to roll out of bed tomorrow morning, right?
