Celebrating the Time That Visits

As a child who grew up reading and watching Doraemon, I was always amazed by the “21st-century” technology owned by that blue robotic cat. No need to walk long distances, you instantly arrive at your destination. No need to study languages, you immediately understand foreign tongues. Small portions of food could be multiplied endlessly. It all felt too wonderful for an elementary school kid’s imagination.

But even now, the tools I’ve always wanted most are the time-stopping machine and the time-travel machine. Two things that even a snot-nosed child could understand the value of. The one thing that never stops moving, something humans can never truly possess: time.

Many motivational speakers say, “Time is more valuable than money,” and “Buy time with money.”

The question is: why is time valuable?

Is it because time is the only thing that cannot be stopped or controlled?

Or is it because time represents the moments people experience? Something that can end and never happen again.

The moment of birth. The first word. The first step. The first time leaving home. The first friend. The first love. The first enemy. The first job. The first disappointment. The first joy. The first lie.

Everything that happens in life is made up of fragments of moments.

They come.

And they will also end.

I won’t be in school forever. Friendships will part ways and continue with their own lives. First love will fade. Enemies may become lovers. Today’s happiness may be replaced by tears on another day. Disappointment may be answered with trust in the right person.

When I think about it, nothing in this world is permanent.

Including house prices, cars, and gold that fluctuate with the market; beauty and health that decline with age; even the people closest to us, who can be taken away by sudden accidents.

Everything is merely “passing through” in life. And like passengers, one day they will say goodbye and step out of the car of my life.

Sometimes I want to keep those moments around a little longer. I imagine myself driving in circles around the passenger’s drop-off point so they won’t get out just yet. Like a man circling around his girlfriend’s boarding house because he doesn’t want to part with her. But time keeps moving. The car that should have continued toward its next destination remains spinning in place, only staring at roads that should have already been left behind.

And eventually, there will always be a hand from outside reaching in. Pulling the passenger out because their time has truly run out. And the tighter I try to hold on, the more I hurt myself. Like playing tug-of-war with the Owner of life itself.

What could I possibly do against the final boss?

If that’s the case—if everything will eventually pass and separate—then what can I do?

Should I avoid happy and precious moments altogether? Because I know none of them will last?

But it feels unbearably sad to live a flat and cold life simply to avoid the pain of losing joyful moments.

What remains, then, is the choice to celebrate moments.

To laugh when it is time to laugh.

To cry when it is time to cry.

To be strong when it is time to be strong.

To be fragile when it is time to be fragile.

To celebrate life in whatever form it takes. To use every moment to feel, create, connect, and rest. To squeeze meaning out of every second with awareness and intention.

So that when a moment finally says goodbye, I can answer:

“Ah, I’m satisfied with what we shared. Thank you for the opportunity you brought. There are still many things I never got to do with you, but with who I was, my condition, my abilities, my awareness, I already did everything I could. Thank you for stopping by.”

And then let go of what was always meant to pass.

Perhaps with a whisper:

“Until later. Until we meet again, with a version of me that has grown.”

In the end, I need to understand that everything has its season. The more I understand this, the less attached I become to things that merely pass through my life. And the more deeply I understand their value.

Until eventually, I learn to celebrate every moment that visits.

*This is the English version of my previous post: https://medium.com/@dancing.quill/merayakan-waktu-yang-singgah-acbbc1d73ea2