We're all just passing time and occupy our chair very briefly.

John Hurt, a man whose voice carried the weight of both sorrow and majesty, once reflected: “We’re all just passing time and occupy our chair very briefly.” These words, simple yet profound, remind us of the fleeting nature of human existence. They carry the weight of ancient truth—that life is not ours to keep, but only to borrow, for a season shorter than the turning of the stars. The chair symbolizes our place in the world—our role, our station, our moment of influence. Yet, like all things, it is temporary, passed from one soul to another, as generations rise and fall.

The meaning of this reflection is humility. Too often men cling to power, to fame, to their possessions, as though they could sit in their chair forever. But the truth, as Hurt so eloquently phrased, is that we are but sojourners, visitors in the halls of time. Passing time is our lot, and soon the chair we think is ours will be given to another. To live with this awareness is not to despair, but to live more deeply, with gratitude, with compassion, with the urgency to make our brief stay worthy.

History offers countless reminders. Consider the life of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who even while ruling one of the greatest empires of the world, wrote in his Meditations: “Alexander the Great and his mule-driver alike were brought to the same death.” He understood that his chair, though gilded and mighty, was only temporary. His writings echo Hurt’s sentiment: that all men, great and small, pass through life quickly, and none keep their place forever.

Another example can be seen in Abraham Lincoln, who once occupied the highest chair of his nation. His time in office was marked by civil war and division, yet he knew that his leadership was but a brief chapter in the long story of his people. He did not cling to his chair as though it were eternal; instead, he sought to fill his fleeting time with purpose—to hold the union together, to bring freedom to the enslaved. His death, sudden and tragic, reminds us of how swiftly the chair is taken away, and how only the deeds endure.

The lesson for us is clear: do not cling too tightly to your position, your wealth, or even your life itself. Instead, focus on how you use the time you have been given. The brevity of our stay is not a curse, but a call to live with meaning. To fill your chair with kindness, with service, with creativity, so that when you rise and another sits in your place, they may find inspiration in the mark you left behind.

In practice, this means cultivating awareness of mortality not as fear, but as guidance. When faced with pride, remember that your chair will pass to another. When faced with despair, remember that all sorrow too is temporary. When tempted to waste time, remember that you are only passing through, and each moment is precious. Live deliberately, as though your days are counted, for indeed they are.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, hold close John Hurt’s wisdom: we are all passing time, seated briefly in life’s chair. Let this truth humble you, free you, and ignite you. Do not sit idly, for your stay is short. Do not sit arrogantly, for the chair is not yours alone. Instead, sit with dignity, with compassion, with purpose. For though your chair will pass to another, the way you filled it will echo in the halls of memory, and your brief time will shine with eternal light.