You’re in the water. The shark is swimming around somewhere. They didn’t give you enough time to prepare and think about how to fight it. All you have is a knife. You panic. You look over your shoulder. It’s five feet away, closing in and you swing the knife, but it’s too late. You scream as you feel the shark’s teeth ripping into your torso.
You wake with a start and drift back to sleep.
An hour later, you’re awake again. You need to pee.
The alarm goes off at seven am. You’re semi-conscious as you have your breakfast cereal. Milk is running off your chin. Then the phone rings.
“Peter, bad news. We’ve had to shut the office today. Some big hiccup with IT. I don’t really get it. Anyway, you won’t be able to get anything done, so take the day off. We’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”
From a shitty night to a great morning.
But the day you’ve gained is unexpected. Special. You shouldn’t have had it and now you feel you should do something with it.
You’ve been given the gift of time.
Now realise, those extra hours you’ve gained are no different from any other time that you have. So why can’t you treat every day, every hour, every minute as if it’s been gifted to you