Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and

"Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are." Thus spoke Anne Lamott, and in her words shines the wisdom of the ages, a truth that pierces the vanity of humankind and lays bare the choice before every soul. For life is not endless; it is a single flame, fragile and brief, and yet within its flicker lies immeasurable worth. To call it odd and precious is no exaggeration—it is the rarest gift, the strangest mystery, the one treasure that cannot be replaced.

Too often, however, mortals squander this treasure upon illusions. They chase the mirage of appearance, laboring not for joy but for the fleeting approval of others. They build thrones of smoke, seeking to look good rather than to be good, weaving the illusion of power while trembling within. But such power is brittle, and such illusions are hollow. No man can command time, no woman can master fate; to believe otherwise is vanity. When the final hour comes, appearances fade like dust, and what remains is only the truth of how one has lived.

History is full of rulers and nobles who devoted their lives to such illusions, only to find their glory turned to ash. Think of Louis XVI of France, who clothed himself in splendor and ceremony, convinced that appearances could shield him. Yet the tide of revolution rose, sweeping away the illusion of divine power, leaving him bare before the blade. His life was not savored but squandered in the service of image. Contrast him with the humble sages and saints who, owning little, tasted much—those who knew joy not in control, but in surrender to the simple truth of who they were.

Consider also the story of the Buddha, born a prince, surrounded by every comfort, destined for worldly power. Yet he saw through the illusion, the fragile mask of wealth and pleasure. He left the palace not to rise higher in rank, but to discover the truth about life and the self. His journey was not about control, but about awakening—tasting, seeing, and understanding. And in that pursuit, he found freedom that no throne could grant. His example stands as a timeless reminder that the true task of life is not to appear mighty, but to discover what lies within.

Lamott’s words strike us, then, with both challenge and invitation. The challenge: abandon the endless striving for appearances, the desperate performance for others’ eyes. The invitation: to taste life, enjoy it, and seek the truth of one’s soul. This is not a call to laziness or indulgence, but to authenticity. To live not in pretense, but in presence. To walk not in the illusion of control, but in the wonder of discovery.

For what is the practical wisdom here? Begin by turning inward. Ask yourself: “Am I living for the gaze of others, or for the growth of my own soul?” Seek not to dominate circumstances, but to embrace them as teachers. Taste your days fully—whether in joy or in sorrow—knowing each one is a piece of the greater journey. Relinquish the obsession with how you appear, and instead nurture who you are. To sit quietly with yourself, to reflect, to create, to love—these are acts of profound power.

So, children of tomorrow, mark this teaching well: your life is odd and precious, a mystery and a gift. Do not spend it imprisoned by illusions, nor waste it in the shadow of appearances. Spend it tasting deeply, enjoying fully, and discovering truly the essence of your being. For at the end of all striving, when the veil of vanity falls away, it will not matter how good you looked, nor how powerful you seemed. What will matter is whether you truly lived. And if you lived truthfully, joyfully, and with open heart, then you will have honored the rare and radiant gift of life itself.