Post it and tell us why it strikes a chord with you.

Yep, it sounds like a prop from a gothic novel. And in a way, it is. Here’s how it works: You’re going to fill a big glass jar with a bunch of marbles. Each marble represents one month out of the (estimated) time you have left to live. - If you’re 50 years old right now, then I want you to optimistically shoot for living to 100. That leaves you with 600 months. So purchase 600 marbles. - If you’re 30 and equally hopeful to live to 100, you’re looking at 840 months to go. So purchase 840 marbles. - Or simply do the math for whatever age you are! Whatever your age, you’ll need a big jar for this. - If you’re a 600-marble person, get a jar around 32 fluid ounces. - If you’re an 840-marble person, aim for something like 42 fluid ounces. - Based on those numbers, estimate the jar size for whatever age you are. Each month, I want you to take one marble out of the jar. Then, as the months go by, watch as the marbles gradually decrease. What’s incredibly powerful—and kinda scary—about this jar is how it will make the abstract concept of time very painfully real. You will literally see your months slipping away, decreasing one marble at a time. Let me tell you, nothing makes you reconsider your life choices quite like watching your allotted marbles disappear. But this jar isn’t just meant to be a reminder that time is passing. It’s meant to be a catalyst for action. So I want you to make removing each marble a ritual. Maybe do it over a glass of wine on the first evening of every month. Or over a coffee during the first morning of a new month. As you remove each marble, think about how you spent the past month. Take time to ask yourself: - Was this month well spent? - Did you waste it on the crap and clutter? - Or did you invest your time in things that enrich your life? This jar of marbles will be a powerful wake-up call. It will poke you in the ribs, gently or not so gently, every time you remove a marble. Because you’ll begin to realize just how much every action—or inaction—truly counts.