Hey you,

Welcome to the 8th edition of The Life You Want.

Every edition will challenge what you’ve heard.


Enough yapping, lets jump in.

Search and rescue teams have a story they don't like to share.

When they find bodies in the desert, there's always something that doesn't make sense.

Something that haunts them long after the paperwork is filed.

The people didn't die from what you'd expect.

Not heat stroke. Not snake bites. Not falls from cliffs.

They died of thirst.

The helicopter circles overhead.

Another call from Death Valley.

Marcus Chen has been leading desert rescue operations for eight years.

He knows every way the desert can kill you.

Heat.
Cold.
Getting lost.
Sandstorms.

But lately, there's been something else.
Something that defies logic.

The GPS coordinates lead them to emptiness in the horizon

No reason for anyone to be in this particular nowhere.
Until they spot the first body.

Peaceful.
Arranged.
Almost ceremonial.

Like someone who simply gave up.
By afternoon, they find two more.

Same story.

Same mysterious surrender.

But then Marcus sees something that makes his stomach drop.

Next to each body:

water bottles.

Multiple bottles.

Not empty. Not broken. Not leaking.

Full.

Completely, absurdly, tragically full.

They didn't die because the desert was harsh.

They died because they were too afraid to use what they had.

Too terrified that drinking now meant having nothing later.

So they rationed their salvation until it killed them.

Death is the only guarantee we're given at birth.

The one appointment that never gets cancelled or moved.

The final deadline that makes every other deadline seem trivial.

The victims of the desert were so terrified of death.

That they ended up bringing it closer.

They feared the uncertainty of future, the future of death.

SO much that they ended up making the uncertain, well… certain.

Death itself isn't what terrifies us.

It's not the stopping of breath or the slowing of pulse.
It's not even the pain or the unknown that comes after.

What keeps us awake at 3 AM isn't death.

It's the fear that when death comes, our story won't have mattered.

That we'll be forgotten the moment we're gone.
That our existence will leave no ripples in the pond of human experience.

We don't fear dying.

We fear having never truly lived.

We fear being erased not just from life, but from significance.

We see the fear of death convert to something else.

The need to be significant.

One of the two fundamental needs we have.

To leave fingerprints on the world that won't wash away.

To know that someone, somewhere, is better off because we existed.

Every human carries this hunger.

Our need to be:


seen 

heard

missed
remembered

But significance is tricky.

The more we need it, the more elusive it becomes.

The more desperately we chase meaning, the more it seems to slip away.

Because significance can't be manufactured or forced.

It emerges from authentic action.

And authenticity requires vulnerability. Risk. The possibility of failure.

All the things our death anxiety makes us want to avoid.

We are all carrying water bottles in our own desert.

Our talents are full bottles.
Our compassion is a full bottle.
Our capacity for connection is a full bottle.

But we're so afraid of running out that we refuse to drink.

What if I try to help and make things worse?
What if I give my heart to this person and they leave?
What if I speak up about this issue and people think I'm unqualified?
What if I use my creativity here and don't have enough for something bigger later?

So we wait. And plan. And prepare.

Always getting ready to matter, never quite ready enough.

We tell ourselves we're being strategic. Thoughtful. Responsible.

But really, we're just scared.

Scared that our best won't be enough.
Scared that we'll be revealed as ordinary.
Scared that we'll spend everything we have and still not make the difference we dreamed of making.

Scared our bottles won’t be enough.

The people in the desert would have survived if they drank their water, instead of rationing with it.

Similarly, the point is to use our bottles in our desert like a normal person.

Instead of rationing them like an “extraordinary person.”

The secret isn’t becoming extraordinary.

But maybe in having the courage to be ordinary.

To matter in small ways, immediate ways, imperfect ways.

To simply help the person in front of you.

Instead of a grand cause.

To love someone complicated.
Instead of waiting for someone simple.

To create a something flawed that works.
Instead of simply dreaming of the ideal perfect.

To speak your truth clumsily.
Instead of waiting to say it perfectly.

That is how you cheat death.

By refusing to let the fear of it keep you from living.

By drinking the water, sharing the gift, taking the risk.

By being brave enough to be normal, present, imperfect, real.

-RT x

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Until next time :)