Instants & What To Do With What We've Got

I had an idea for a post, and then I read this poem a friend shared on Facebook: 

Instantes (Instants)

If I were able to live my life anew, In the next I would try to commit more errors. I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more. I would be more foolish than I've been, In fact, I would take few things seriously. I would be less hygienic. I would run more risks, take more vacations, contemplate more sunsets, climb more mountains, swim more rivers. I would go to more places where I've never been, I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans, I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones. I was one of those people that lived sensibly and prolifically each minute of his life; Of course I had moments of happiness. If I could go back I would try to have only good moments. Because if you didn't know, of that is life made: only of moments; Don't lose the now. I was one of those that never went anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, an umbrella, and a parachute; If I could live again, I would travel lighter. If I could live again, I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of spring and I would continue barefoot until autumn ends. I would take more cart rides, contemplate more dawns, and play with more children, If I had another life ahead of me. But already you see, I am 85, and I know that I am dying.

-Jorge Luis Borges (Or not. Some say this is an incorrect attribution.) 

Then I came home to Fantastic Spatula and saw Lucy's fabulous post about lessons on perfection and knew I had to share the poem with you. 


Already I am 27, and I hope I have many more instants in front of me; I contemplated how I want to use them. Committing more errors would certainly happen if I translated more poems and stories by Borges. (Spanish class translating his work did not go well for me years ago.) I could certainly stand to relax and to shrug off perfectionism. 


I will face more challenges and take more risks. Lately so much of my experience has taught me that the greatest gains are made when I do something that scares me the most. I will drag my feet less. I will skip more. 


I realize I write in the future tense, and it thrills me to know that I will live my remaining instants so that when I reach that age, I can write my song of gratitude, not regret, and share my stories as encouragement, not admonitions. 


What will you do with your instants?