The Real Lesson of 12/12/12

Today is 12/12/12.

You’re probably aware if you’re anywhere near social media.

You may find it a curious footnote.

You may find it cause for confetti and fire-ponies.

You may find it signals for you some kind of… ill-translated Apocalypse.

You may find it demands a cynical dismissive shaking-of-the-fist.

Here’s what I’m taking away from 12/12/12 —

This is the last time that we’ll experience a date like that. The same number repeated thrice.

That, in and of itself, matters not at all. Not one squiggly whit. Nary a blip on the cosmic radar.

What it reminds me, though, is that all of time operates like this. You and I will never experience 12/12/12 again. And we’ll also never experience 12/11/12 again. Or the 10th of November, 2012. Or the 23rd of April, 1999. In fact, this very hour — this very minute — will come and then go and never return. Each increment of time is a spaceship launched into the dark that will never return home. Every moment is a snowflake, a fingerprint, a unique atomic temporal signature whose repeat is guaranteed to be impossible.

What will you do with 12/12/12?

What will you do with this hour?

This minute?

This second?

How will you own each moment of time? How will your fingerprint meet its fingerprint?

How will you remember each day when its ember brightens and turns to ash?

Do something with your time. Because it ain’t coming back.