Thirty or so years ago, a palm reader (don't ask ... really, just don't ask) told me that I'd live to be 86. Which, if that palm reader was right, means I have about 29½ years left on my clock.
That means I'll be flying away in about 354 months or 10,775 days or 258,597 hours. Assuming, of course, nothing else happens before then.
The question is what am I going to do with the time that I have left?
I would be easy (and lazy) for me to say that I'll do something grand for the betterment of humanity or that I plan to undertake a project, or series of projects, that will make me rich beyond the dream of avarice.
But I also know that I'm not destined for greatness. And any money making scheme is as likely (if not more likely) to fail that it is to succeed. None of that is going to happen.
All I really can do is live in my remaining time on this planet. To enjoy that life. To have a few more experiences. To appreciate what I have. To have as few regrets as possible. To try minimize my footprint on the Earth. To try to be a positive influence on those around me. To shake things up a little bit and in my own small way
Those aren't bad things for which to strive.