Can We Make Life Feel Longer?

Why Does Time Seem to Go Faster as We Get Older?

I have been thinking about this lately.

Why does it seem to pass by faster the older we get?

When I was a child, the six-week school holidays felt like they lasted forever. Christmas seemed an eternity away, birthdays took ages to arrive, and waiting for a family holiday required the patience of a saint.

Now, I blink, and another month has passed.

Christmas seems to come around every few months. It feels like only yesterday that we were celebrating the New Year and in the beat of a heart, we are already halfway through it.

So I did a little thinking, and a little research, and this is the conclusion I have come to.

The first reason why time flies by when we get older is surprisingly simple.

Every year becomes a smaller part of our life.

When you are five years old, one year represents 20% of everything you have ever experienced. That's huge.

By the time you reach twenty, a year is only 5% of your life.

At fifty, it's just 2%.

Perhaps that is why one year no longer feels as significant as it once did. But I don't think that's the whole story. I believe memories have a lot to do with it.

When we are children, almost everything is new.

Our first day at school.

Our first bicycle.

Our first overseas holiday.

Our first pet.

Our first job.

Our first love.

The brain is working overtime, taking in thousands of new experiences and creating memories that stay with us for decades.

As adults, life often becomes wonderfully predictable, but also repetitive.

We drive the same roads.

We visit the same supermarkets.

We eat at the same restaurants.

We follow the same routines week after week.

Our brains become incredibly efficient. Instead of treating each day as something new, they quietly say, "I've seen this before."

The days don't disappear.

They simply don't leave behind as many memorable footprints.

Think about a holiday you've taken.

While you were there, the week probably flew by.

But months later, when you think back, it feels surprisingly long because you can remember every beach, every meal, every conversation, every sunrise and every unexpected moment.

Now compare that with an ordinary week at home.

Can you remember what you had for lunch two Tuesdays ago?

Probably not.

Routine compresses our memories.

Novelty stretches them.

I also think that as adults our minds are rarely in the present.

We're thinking about tomorrow's meeting.

Next month's bills.

Our children's future.

Our next holiday.

Our retirement.

Life becomes a series of things we have to prepare for, rather than moments we fully experience.

So is there a way to slow time down? Not literally, of course. But perhaps we can slow down the way we experience it.

Here are a few ideas that I think can make life feel richer and fuller.

• Visit somewhere you've never been before, even if it's just a different part of your own city.
• Learn a new skill or hobby.
• Read books that challenge your thinking.
• Take a different route when you go for your morning walk.
• Meet new people and listen to their stories.
• Spend more time in nature.
• Put your phone away for a while and simply observe what's around you.
• Practise mindfulness and give your full attention to whatever you're doing.
• Keep a journal so ordinary days become memorable.
• And, if you're anything like me, carry a camera.

Photography has taught me to notice things I would otherwise walk straight past.

The way the morning light falls across an old building.

A smile between strangers.

A reflection in a puddle after the rain.

The tiny details that make an ordinary day extraordinary.

Perhaps that's one of the greatest gifts photography gives us.

It doesn't slow the clock.

It slows us down.

Maybe that's the secret.

Time itself never speeds up.

We do.

And perhaps the older we get, the more important it becomes to pause every now and then, look around, and truly notice the life that is unfolding right in front of us.

Because in the end, life isn't measured by how many years we live.

It's measured by how many moments we truly remember.

Jerome