In Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Tarfon said: “The day is short, the work is great, the workers are lazy, the reward is abundant, and the Master of the house is pressing.”
רַבִּי טַרְפוֹן אוֹמֵר, הַיּוֹם קָצָר וְהַמְּלָאכָה מְרֻבָּה, וְהַפּוֹעֲלִים עֲצֵלִים, וְהַשָּׂכָר הַרְבֵּה, וּבַעַל הַבַּיִת דּוֹחֵק

We often think we have all the time in the world. “I’ll get to it tomorrow,” we say, while putting off the very things that will help us grow. But this mindset prevents us from reaching our full potential. If we keep thinking there’s always more time, we risk never achieving what we’re truly capable of.

Hashem created the world filled with mashalim (parables) to help us understand deeper truths. Without these parables, many things would remain beyond our grasp.
For example, Hashem created earthly kings to teach us how to relate to the King of all Kings. Parents exist so we can understand our relationship with our Father in Heaven. And in raising children, we get a glimpse into how Hashem loves and cares for us.

Among these mashalim is the day itself — a powerful metaphor for life.

We wake up in the morning, thinking we have the whole day ahead of us. Maybe we hit snooze a few times, take our time getting ready, or start the day full of energy. We’re not worried because we assume there’s plenty of time to get things done.

But suddenly, it’s 2 p.m., and we wonder: Where did the day go? Now, we start to rush, trying to make up for lost time. By 5 p.m., we realize the day is almost over. And before we know it, it’s 10 p.m., and we’re winding down with so much left undone.

Does this sound familiar?

Our lives are just like this day. In our teens and twenties, we feel like we have all the time and energy in the world. We think there’s no rush, and anything can wait. But in our thirties, time speeds up, though we still assume there’s plenty left. By our forties, fifties, and sixties, we start to look back and ask, Where did all the time go?

As we age, our bodies slow down, energy wanes, and we no longer have the vitality or time we once did. Life is short.

In our youth, a year feels like forever. Now, each year passes in a blur. Time is based on our perception: when you’re five, the year between your 5th and 6th birthday is 20% of your life. But when you’re fifty, it’s only 2%. It can feel frightening when time starts to fly, but this isn’t meant to scare you. Rather, it should inspire you.

If you woke up today, it means Hashem has faith in you. Pirkei Avot teaches us in the very next Mishna: “Lo alecha hamelacha ligmor, v’lo ata ben chorin l’hibatel mimena” — “It is not your responsibility to finish the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” Hashem has a purpose for you. Even if it seems impossible to finish everything, that’s no reason to stop trying.

At the beginning of my marriage, my wife and I were living in New York. Since I wasn’t a U.S. citizen, I worked on a visa that had to be renewed each year. The job market wasn’t great, and the chance of finding a company willing to sponsor me for a better visa seemed unlikely. I wanted to grow professionally, to start my own business, buy a home, and put down roots in a community where we could raise our future children. But with the visa situation, none of that was possible.

I continued waking up each day, going to work, and living a life that felt temporary. And then, one day, it hit me: I wasn’t growing. I couldn’t, given the situation. I thought to myself, “It’s been three years… Where will I be in another three years? Or more?” That was the day my wife and I made the decision to move back to Canada.

Looking back, I realize that this was my wake-up call — a reminder that while the work may be overwhelming, and the road ahead uncertain, I couldn’t stand still. Hashem doesn’t expect us to complete everything, but He also doesn’t want us to remain idle. We must keep moving forward.

Each day is a gift. With Rosh Hashanah approaching, now is the time to reflect, to push forward. Now is the time to press the gas pedal and decide: Who will I become this year?

The trick is simple: You can’t make a year count unless you make your days count.

We all want a fulfilling life, but in order to achieve that, we need to make each year meaningful. And to make each year count, we must start by making our days count.

People often overestimate what they can accomplish in a single day, yet underestimate what they can achieve in a year — or five. With consistent daily effort, you can move mountains.

The work is great, but so is the reward. What are you waiting for?

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