We were never supposed to live until 40. We were built to

Listen, O children of wisdom, for the words of Douglas Coupland strike at the heart of the human condition: “We were never supposed to live until 40. We were built to self-destruct at 30, whether from cancer or mental illness. We're all going way beyond our expiration date.” These words, though unsettling, bring forth a deep truth about the fragility and impermanence of human life. Coupland speaks to the limits of the human body and mind, acknowledging that our existence is marked not only by the beauty of life but also by its inherent vulnerability. We were never meant to live beyond a certain point, yet through the force of modern advancements and sheer will, we stretch the very limits of our mortality, living beyond our expiration date, as he so poignantly describes.

In the ancient world, the philosophers understood well the fleeting nature of life. Socrates, when he faced his death sentence, did not mourn his impending death, but accepted it as the natural end to a life well lived. He believed that death was not an enemy, but a transition, and that the true measure of life was not how long we lived, but how we lived. In his conversations, Socrates often spoke of the purpose of life: to live virtuously, to pursue wisdom, and to engage in the deep questions of existence. He did not expect to grow old; in fact, many of the ancient philosophers believed that the average lifespan was short, and thus they viewed life as precious precisely because it was short-lived. The Greeks held that living well, not for a long time, was the true measure of human success.

The Romans, too, had a similar understanding of life’s fragility. Cicero, despite his many years of service and statesmanship, was keenly aware of how little time he had. He wrote often about the fleeting nature of life and the impermanence of the body. In his treatise on old age, Cicero reflected on the grace that comes with accepting life’s end and the virtue found in living a life of purpose. He understood that we are not meant to live forever, and thus he placed great importance on how we live in the short time we are given. The idea of outliving one’s expiration date would have seemed foreign to him, for the Romans believed that living a full, purposeful life—whether it lasted 40 years or 80—was the true goal of existence.

In modern times, we have surpassed the natural limits of the human body and mind. Advancements in medicine, science, and technology have extended our lifespan beyond what the ancients could have ever imagined. We now live longer, healthier lives, but with that comes a burden—the burden of expectations, of purpose, of meaning in the latter years. Coupland’s words remind us that while we have exceeded the boundaries of nature, we have also pushed ourselves into uncharted territory. We now find ourselves living beyond our expiration date, not as a blessing, but as a question mark—wondering what comes next. The question of purpose grows ever more pressing as we reach an age that the ancients never expected us to attain. What do we do when we exceed the time we were meant to have? What is the meaning of a life that stretches so far beyond its natural end?

Leonardo da Vinci, a man whose genius spanned a multitude of fields, lived a life that defied the limits of his time. He lived to the age of 67, a remarkable age for the 15th century, and continued to create, to invent, and to explore until his last days. Yet, even as he lived far beyond the typical lifespan of his era, his life was marked by an unrelenting drive to understand the world. Da Vinci didn’t simply seek to survive—he sought to engage with life fully, to create legacies that would carry his ideas into the future. In this, his life was not only a triumph of longevity, but a testament to living with purpose, even when the days seem to stretch endlessly before us. His genius, like Coupland’s reflection, lies in the paradox that, despite his extended years, he remained youthful in spirit—always curious, always evolving, even in the later stages of his life.

What Coupland challenges us to recognize is the tension between the natural limitations of the human experience and the artificial extensions we have created. Life was once fragile and brief, yet now we live longer and longer, and with this extended time comes the question of what to do with it. The ancient wisdom of the philosophers tells us that it is not the duration of life that matters, but the quality of the life we lead. It is easy to focus on how long we live, but the true measure of life is how we fill those years with meaning and purpose.

The lesson here is one of acceptance and awareness. Life, in all its complexity, is fleeting. It is not for us to add years to our life, but to add life to our years. Coupland’s reflection reminds us that we were never meant to live beyond a certain point, but through our technological advances, we have stretched the boundaries of human existence. What remains, then, is to live these years with vitality, with joy, and with an understanding that purpose is what transforms mere survival into a meaningful existence. Let your life be measured not by the number of years you accumulate, but by the depth of the experiences you create, the wisdom you impart, and the love you give.

In your own life, focus not on the quantity of your years, but on the quality. Use your time wisely, for we do not know how long we are meant to live, but we can choose how we will live the time we have. Let each day be an opportunity to create purpose, to question what matters, and to live with intention. In doing so, you will transcend the mere limits of life, and find eternity in each moment, living fully within the time you have been granted.