The other day I was listening to Brian Cox talk about what it would be like to cross the event horizon of a black hole – the spacetime boundary beyond which nothing can return.
You wouldn’t notice it at first. But once you cross it, there is no going back. You are inevitably drawn toward the singularity where time collapses.
That made me think about crossing the event horizon of being human. Once we are born, there is no return. We move only forward in time, inevitably toward its end. Certain in our destination, unpredictable in our timing.
Inside a black hole, you cannot avoid the singularity. Firing rockets, resisting gravity, trying to escape – none of it changes the outcome. Resistance won’t reverse the fall. In fact, surrendering to the trajectory, relaxing into the free fall, is what maximizes the time you have left.
There’s something uncomfortably familiar in that too. Fighting time doesn’t extend it. It often does the opposite – it robs us of the capacity to be present and fully experience it.
While the science is still evolving, black holes are thought to leave behind an imprint on the universe – a lingering signature of what once was. In its own way, that also mirrors human life: the imprint that remains long after we’re gone. Our legacy.
All this hints at a broader possibility: some patterns that shape the universe often echo the patterns that shape us – the same logic, expressed at different scales.
Beyond the event horizon of being human, there are limits we cannot reverse and outcomes we cannot fully control. Effort still matters, but not all effort changes direction – some only increases friction.
Perhaps wisdom is learning the difference: knowing when to push, when to accept, and where to place our attention. Because ultimately, we don’t get to choose whether time moves forward. We only get to choose the imprint we leave behind.
Habit of Growth 