Don't brood. Get on with living and loving. You don't have

Leo Buscaglia, the great teacher of love, gave us words like a trumpet blast against idleness of the soul: “Don’t brood. Get on with living and loving. You don’t have forever.” In this short saying lies a deep truth about the fleeting nature of existence. Life is not an endless span, but a brief flame. To spend it brooding—dwelling on regrets, failures, or fears—is to waste the fire. What matters is to live fully, and to love deeply, for time is not our possession but our passing gift.

The ancients also warned of this truth. The Stoics spoke of memento mori, the remembrance of death, not to darken the spirit but to awaken it. Marcus Aurelius himself wrote that man must live each day as though it were his last—sincere, unafraid, ready for action. To brood is to stand still in the shadows of yesterday, but to live is to step into the light of now. Thus, Buscaglia’s words are not merely an exhortation but a call to courage: shake off the chains of sorrow and rise into the dance of life while breath is yet in you.

Consider the story of Helen Keller. She could have brooded upon her condition, dwelling endlessly on her blindness and deafness, believing herself condemned to silence. But instead, with the guidance of her teacher Anne Sullivan, she got on with living. She learned language, embraced education, wrote, spoke, and loved fiercely. Her life became not a monument to limitation, but a testimony to the power of refusing despair. Had she lingered in brooding, the world would have been deprived of her light.

Buscaglia’s wisdom also points us toward the urgency of loving. For love is not to be postponed. We imagine we have time to forgive, time to speak kind words, time to embrace those dearest to us—but too often, time vanishes like mist. How many sons and daughters have mourned a parent after leaving words of love unspoken? How many friends have parted with bitterness, only to discover too late that reconciliation can no longer be offered? To live without brooding is not enough; one must also live by pouring forth love without delay.

History gives us also the lesson of Abraham Lincoln. In the midst of civil war, burdened with defeat and grief, he might have sunk into despair. But he chose instead to live and love, extending compassion even to his enemies, urging reconciliation where others demanded vengeance. His refusal to brood over failures gave him strength to keep pressing toward unity. His insistence on love, even in hardship, left a legacy that outlived the conflict itself.

To not brood is not to deny pain, but to refuse to be mastered by it. Life will wound every soul; loss, failure, and injustice are part of the human condition. But the difference lies here: some dwell forever in their wounds, while others rise, scarred but unbroken, and continue to live fully. To live is to accept imperfection and yet rejoice in the gift of breath, of touch, of love.

The lesson is plain: do not waste your life in regret or fear. Embrace each day as a gift, and each person as a treasure. Do not delay in speaking words of kindness, in pursuing the dreams that stir your heart, in giving yourself to love. For you do not have forever—your days are numbered, though their number is unknown. But this truth is not a curse; it is a blessing, for it sharpens your desire to live now, and to love now.

Practical action is simple yet urgent: each morning, name one thing you will do to live more fully and one person to whom you will show love. Do not postpone joy. Do not wait for the perfect time—it may never come. Forgive quickly, embrace often, speak kindly, and act boldly. For as Leo Buscaglia reminds us, life is short, love is urgent, and you must not waste the precious flame of your days in brooding when you were born to live and to love.