People always talk about how time flies; it's become sort of a

Hear the voice of Ben Gibbard, who speaks with the quiet weight of passing years: “People always talk about how time flies; it’s become sort of a colloquialism now. You don’t really understand it until you reach your late 30s and early 40s—and I’m sure time will move even faster as I get older.” His words pierce with a truth that all feel but few grasp until age has carved its lessons. For in youth, the hours seem abundant, the days unending, and the years a road stretching far beyond the horizon. Yet as life advances, the illusion fades, and one sees how swiftly the river of time runs.

The ancients, too, marveled at the swiftness of life. Did not the poet Virgil speak of how fleeting are the joys of men, and how quickly the years slip through the hands like grains of sand? The wise compared life to the shadow of a bird passing overhead, or the dew that glimmers in the morning only to vanish with the sun. Gibbard’s words echo this same wisdom, clothed in modern speech: that the saying “time flies” is not merely an empty phrase, but a reality felt more keenly with each passing decade.

Consider the tale of Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher. In his Meditations, he wrote of the brevity of human life, urging himself to act with virtue, for soon he would be dust and ash. Though he ruled the mightiest empire of his age, he confessed that the march of time spares no one—not kings, not warriors, not sages. His reflection mirrors Gibbard’s: the older one grows, the more urgent the truth becomes that the years are not infinite, and their pace only quickens.

Ben Gibbard speaks also from his own life as an artist. In youth, songs and tours seemed endless, but with the passage of decades, perspective shifts. What once seemed far away—middle age, the advancing years—suddenly stands at the door. And in that realization comes both awe and humility: awe at the swiftness of existence, humility at the knowledge that no one can slow the tide of time.

But take heed, O seekers of wisdom: the danger is not only in the speed of life, but in forgetting its swiftness. Youth wastes time as though it were endless coin, not knowing its value until the purse is nearly empty. Age looks back and wonders where it has gone. Gibbard’s words are not merely lament, but gentle counsel: understand now what the elders know, that each hour is precious, that the days are not as many as we imagine.

The lesson is clear: live consciously. Do not postpone joy, nor delay love, nor put off the work that gives meaning to your days. Guard yourself from the illusion that you will always have more time. Each year seems faster than the last not because the days are shorter, but because our awareness deepens. Let that awareness sharpen your purpose and awaken your gratitude.

Practical wisdom lies before you: cherish the present moment. Keep the company of those you love, for one day you will look back and wonder how swiftly the seasons turned. Mark your years not by regrets of what was left undone, but by the fullness of what was lived. Write, create, give, serve—so that when the river carries you swiftly onward, it carries also the memory of a life not wasted, but richly spent.

Therefore, let Gibbard’s words remain with you: “People always say time flies… you don’t truly understand it until later.” Do not wait for later to awaken. Understand now, while you yet breathe, that life is fleeting. Let this truth not discourage you, but inspire you—to live bravely, to love deeply, and to use your days as treasures, before they vanish into the swift flight of time.