I used to wonder: what must it feel like to live the life of a mayfly? Spending years developing in the mud, and then, at the perfect moment—once a year, in complete synchrony—emerging from the river on the same day, as larvae rise to the surface and, within 5-10 minutes, transform into fully developed adults. They then live out their brief adult lives in a matter of hours.

These few hours are a spectacular, passionate dance above the water—bursting with flight, courtship, mating rituals, reproduction, egg-laying, and, inevitably, the final act of this sudden, fervent orgy: their death.

What must it feel like to experience that?

To exist somehow for years, to grow, struggle, and survive—and then, as everything suddenly accelerates, to mature in the blink of an eye, to take flight, to court, to love and be loved, to create life…

What a rush.

To feel happiness so profound that it consumes you in an instant. And all of this compressed into a tiny fraction of time compared to everything that came before.

Is this what our lives are like? Is this what awaits us?

Whether in work, relationships, or just life in general, we often find ourselves existing, enduring, struggling, and growing for years. Sometimes it lasts so long that we begin to believe nothing will ever change. After all, we so rarely see anyone succeed… maybe once a year, and even then, it’s over in the blink of an eye. From the outside, that moment can make us doubt: is it all worth it?

I don’t know. But I’ll try it. And maybe being in it—and finding happiness so profound it consumes me—will give me the answer.

The article was originally published on the vendler.hu blog.