The river flows quickly from its source. Rushing down from high cliffs carving its path as it goes. There is an assumed purpose to it. Pulled ever downward to the ever slowing lowlands. The river moves ever slower and slower to its ultimate end as it joins the ocean and is lost in its vastness.
My life has had its fast times, filled with purpose and decisions. Now as my shell slowly descends from the high mountain it deteriorates and my days of rashness and physicality slowly move to my end I in the totality of God, I must transition from the physical purpose to a more spiritual one. Now is the time for slow recollections and attempts to understand the life I have lived.
I guess Isaac Newton said it well, and I paraphrase. “My worldly usefulness is the last idol I am willing to part with—but the Lord will enable me to give even this up.”