Time is not too short

Often, we are told that we are late. Late to figure out, late to deliver, late to grow up. When you scroll through Instagram Reels on your phone, you’ll find a teenager launching a startup company, people getting into their dream schools, and early adults who have already “made it” in life. 

But what if this concept isn’t true?

I remember the first time I heard about robotics back in seventh grade. I ignored its presence and actually hated the idea of ever joining it. I thought it was a waste of time because I didn’t start early enough. But when I look at myself four years later, I realize that opinion was not true. I am experienced, confident, and satisfied with myself.

School is similar. We are tucked into hour-long schedules, learning concepts, with one semester to prove ourselves and four years to define who we are before college; it makes sense that we feel like we are sprinting down a relentless treadmill. 

Perhaps, however, when we take a step back to think, we realize that time is more generous than it seems.

The prefrontal cortex of our brain doesn’t fully develop until the age of twenty-five. Frankly, full confidence rarely appears until you’re a mature adult. Purpose is often blurred and confusing in our life paths. Even passions, like playing a musical instrument, sport, or a hobby, take years of failure and trial to start to master. We expect this clarity to happen too soon—to show its success in the first few minutes of its existence.

Our mistakes are data that we learn from, and we allow ourselves to change decisions, to drop or pick up, or retry something without the idea of shame.

We avoid risks because we feel that the cost will be too great. We rush our actions because we hate the idea of uncertainty. Ironically, in trying to save our time, we cast a shadow of self-doubt, comparison, and worry. 

When we accept the idea that time is not too short, everything changes. Our mistakes are data that we learn from, and we allow ourselves to change decisions, to drop or pick up, or retry something without the idea of shame. Life becomes a journey and process rather than a race to one hundred percent. 

This doesn’t mean that effort should be ignored or that we have an indefinite amount of time for everything. Rather, we gradually build on the art in our human nature, creativity, with the finite time we have. We make the most of it. 

Time doesn’t hunt us down. As long as we’re still trying, doing, and becoming, there’s nothing that signifies us being behind, since what matters most isn’t what you’re perfect at—it’s what you love. 

Despite what we’re told, time is not too short.