Another day, and news of another life snuffed out in cruel, unexpected circumstances. This time a friend of the family, someone with whom I had limited interaction myself, but remember well. And so, it was another sobering morning spent reflecting once more on the fragility of life and the capriciousness of fate. 

Lots of questions, but very few answers. Ultimately, I think we must confront the reality that so much of our lives is out of our hands. And yet, so much of it is. Which is which and what is what? And why haven't I got a copy of the manual? I look for signs and try to discern patterns, switching intermittently between hope and despair. 

Are you living today like it's your last day on earth? I was thinking about this and came up with a few reasons why I should, and also why I shouldn't. Scrambled thoughts, on an increasingly scrambled day. 

Obviously, treasure each moment. Never be oblivious to the magic that is all around you, the miracle of existence, the devastating beauty of the here and now. And yes, make the most of it. Fill each unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run and all that, but also make sure you're not ruled by a sense of urgency. 

There was a time when I was hung up on the 'Art is long but Time is fleeting' mantra and the tragic implications of that. Taken to its extreme, it meant that every minute not spent crafting a piece of art was an unforgivable waste of time; another round lost in a fight you were never going to win. 

There is a point up to which this is useful; beyond that, it is cripplingly counter-productive. There must always be a place for calm and solitude. For walking when you can run. Yes, there's a middle ground somewhere, but it might as well be Middle Earth to me because I am still trying to pull it from the realms of fantasy into my own reality. 

Someone once said "Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever". Again, I can see there is something to be said about coming to terms with your mortality. 

As the late Steve Jobs once famously said: "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." 

And yet, I think it is equally important to pay heed to the future. To look forward, with hope, to a time that has not yet come. To consider the long-term implications of your actions in the present. When you do this, you realise there are often real, important things that you stand to lose. And, without wanting to sound too self-important, there may well be others in your life who stand to lose from your absence too. 

So it is right to improve your chances of sticking around longer by looking after both body and mind, so that when you reach the point where time (and it's been known to happen) seems to stretch out before you like a vast ocean, you will still have something to fill the unforgiving minutes with. Besides, a part of you does live forever, does it not? Even if it's just in the memories of those who never stop loving you. 

So, sure, come to terms with mortality, but ask immortality to the dance. It will be short, but what a dance it could be; what a beautiful life. 

Scrambled, scrambled, scrambled. But I guess I've never been a sunny-side-up kind of guy.