I may not live forever, but today I strive for better.

Mortality usually shows up in a sentence like this as a threat. It works far better as a filter.

A man I know started piano at seventy-one. His teacher asked what he was working toward and he said nothing much — he only wanted to be someone who could get through one Chopin nocturne badly. Four years on he still can't do it cleanly. He plays every morning.

Striving stays sustainable only when it's untethered from arrival. If today's version of you is a little more awake, a little more honest, a little kinder than yesterday's, the ledger balances. Nobody is grading the total.