I recently witnessed something unsettling. At a musical performance, the singer and electric guitarist collapsed, falling forward onto the ground. She regained consciousness, medics rushed in, and while the cause remains private, one thing was clear: she’d performed nearly non-stop for two and a half hours. Exhaustion? Perhaps. But it felt symbolic of a larger truth—we’re all overworking, overstraining, burning out in a world that demands too much.
Let’s talk about the weight we carry. Uncertainty hangs thick—land expropriation, joblessness, dwindling opportunities. In Cape Town, estate agents must be anxious. If properties are seized, what then? Look to Mozambique. A man I know there recounted how his family’s apartment block was expropriated overnight when the communists arrived. He crossed the border, started anew here—but not everyone gets that chance.
This precariousness forces me to reflect on time. On how easily we squander it, assuming we’ll always have more. Wealth, stability, security—they take decades to cultivate. Yet we delay, distract, self-sabotage.
Here’s the uncomfortable timeline:
- 20s: You’re chasing thrill, not thrift.
- 30s: The first flicker of urgency—maybe I should plan.
- 40s: Regret creeps in. Why didn’t I start sooner?
- 50s: The clock deafens. Every choice feels urgent.
- 60s: Harsh reality—time is no longer on your side.
But standing between us and progress? Achilles heels. Procrastination. Laziness. Indulgence. The refusal to decide. Even the so-called “small” flaws—impatience, emotional volatility, vanity—can unravel everything. I’ve watched people devour thirds at dinner, their health crumbling alongside their discipline. Others drown in debt, trapped by greed or apathy.
These aren’t just bad habits. They’re existential threats. Financial ruin, broken relationships, chronic illness—they root in the cracks of our character.
What’s your Achilles heel? Identify it. Name it. Then—do something. Time won’t pause for your excuses. Assets take decades to build, but only moments to lose.
Let’s learn from the singer’s stumble. Stop glorifying the grind. Start prioritising the long game.
No hashtags, no platitudes. Just a nudge to look inward—and act.
