I don't really watch what I eat. I love sitting around with

In the rich tapestry of life, there is a time for discipline and a time for joy, and often the balance between the two is where true wisdom lies. Santiago Cabrera offers a reflection that resonates with both youthful exuberance and the freedom of living in the moment: "I don't really watch what I eat. I love sitting around with friends and eating loads and drinking loads for hours. Maybe when I'm 40 I'll worry about my diet." In these words, Cabrera expresses a sentiment known to all who have felt the invincibility of youth—a time when the body feels indestructible, and the pleasures of life are found in laughter, companionship, and indulgence. But beneath these words lies an ancient truth: life is a balance, and the enjoyment of the present moment must eventually be tempered with the wisdom of the future.

The ancients understood well the tension between indulgence and moderation, between the joy of the moment and the wisdom of preparing for what lies ahead. Homer, in his epic The Odyssey, tells the story of Odysseus, who, after years of wandering and indulging in the pleasures of life, eventually realizes that he must return home to his family and his responsibilities. The journey is long and filled with distractions, but it is only through his eventual self-discipline that he finds the path to his true home and his true purpose. Much like Cabrera, who speaks of his current indulgence, Odysseus represents a kind of youthful freedom—a time when the body’s strength allows for feasts and celebrations, but also a moment when the wisdom of age calls for a reckoning and a return to balance.

In Rome, the great statesman and philosopher Cicero understood the importance of moderation in all things, including diet. He taught that a life lived in excess would eventually lead to imbalance, and that true strength lay in the ability to enjoy life’s pleasures without becoming enslaved by them. While the Romans enjoyed rich feasts and robust conversation, they also knew that lasting health came from tempering these pleasures with discipline. Cabrera’s youthful approach, a refusal to watch what he eats and the embrace of the moment, echoes the Roman view that life is for living, but that wisdom requires a balance that comes with time. The Romans taught that true joy comes not from indulgence alone, but from the conscious choice to partake in life with awareness and moderation.

The Greeks, too, in their pursuit of virtue, understood the importance of self-control and discipline. Plato and Aristotle, while acknowledging the pleasures of the body, argued that true happiness comes from the ability to master oneself. Cabrera, in his youthful abandonment, is embodying the spirit of the early days of life when one is still exploring, still learning, and still experimenting with the freedoms of indulgence. Yet, as the Greeks knew, there comes a point when the soul matures and realizes that the joy of indulgence must be tempered with the responsibilities of maintaining the body’s strength. Just as Plato taught that the soul must be in harmony with the body, Cabrera’s journey reflects the universal struggle of finding balance between freedom and responsibility.

Think, too, of the story of Alexander the Great, who, in his youth, conquered vast lands and indulged in the pleasures of kingship, but was eventually reminded by his own mortality. His body, once indestructible, began to feel the weight of his excesses, and the lessons of self-discipline became clearer with age. Alexander’s life serves as a metaphor for Cabrera’s own reflection on the future. The young man, filled with vitality and the strength to feast and celebrate, may one day face the consequences of his indulgence, just as Alexander had to reconcile his youthful conquests with the responsibility of leadership. And so, like Cabrera, Alexander’s eventual recognition of his own limitations calls for a deeper understanding of the body’s needs—a need for balance, discipline, and foresight.

Yet, even in these moments of indulgence, there is wisdom. The Buddhist concept of mindfulness teaches us that the present moment is to be embraced fully, but with awareness. To eat, drink, and live without regret is not a betrayal of the future, but an invitation to live consciously in the now. The Buddha himself spoke of the middle way—not denying oneself pleasure, but not becoming a slave to it either. Cabrera’s words echo this notion: while he enjoys the pleasures of life now, he recognizes that there will come a time when discipline will be necessary. His joy is not reckless, but grounded in the understanding that balance is a lifelong journey.

The lesson Cabrera imparts to us is this: life is for living, but it is also for learning. In youth, we indulge and explore, but with age comes the understanding that well-being is built not on excess but on balance. The ancients knew that the true path to happiness and health lay not in denying the pleasures of life but in learning to master them. Cabrera reminds us that while we may choose to indulge in the moment, we must not lose sight of the wisdom that comes with experience. Just as Alexander, Socrates, and Plato understood, so too must we recognize that the path to true vitality lies not in reckless abandon, but in the graceful dance between freedom and discipline.

Let this be your guiding principle. In your own life, embrace the freedom of living fully, but do so with awareness. Indulge in the joys of life—whether in food, drink, or companionship—but know that true strength lies in knowing when to pull back, when to embrace discipline, and when to nourish the body and mind with balance. Like Cabrera, savor the moments, but also prepare for the future by living in harmony with the rhythms of life. Only through this balance can we truly find lasting well-being.