Situated in Vitoria, Spain is a small Museo de Arqueología with exhibits of the history and anthropology of the region. One display details the Roman occupation of the area circa 200 B.C. and shows many traces of the civilization they left behind including weapons, pottery, statues, jewelry, etc.

For me, 200 B.C. is difficult to comprehend. 200 B.C. - twenty-two centuries ago. Assuming an average of 25 years between generations, a woman born in 200 B.C. would be the equivalent of my mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother. Stop for a minute and try to comprehend how many generations have come and gone in the last 2200 years. Those are a lot of mothers. The only ones I can really picture would be my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. The previous 84 generations I don't even have a mental image of.

The Museo has another exhibit that's even more perplexing: pre-Romanization artifacts. Prior to the Romanization of Vitoria, human beings had existed in the region for some 200,000 years (one of the first homo sapien settlements in Europe). That's some 8,000 generations of humans: 8,000 mothers marching off the face of the earth one at a time, after having experienced childhood, adulthood, and old age; paths parallel to the one that we're on right now - with the same end result that one day awaits us.

We're only here for a fraction of time. We Americans happen to measure that time in years; Mother Nature measures it in a few blinks of her patient eyes. She knows and understands that humans arrived on the tail end of this universe's timeline. Life existed on this planet long before human appearance, and the universe itself passed many generations of stars and moons before life began on this tiny planet Earth.

Mortality is bittersweet: mysterious and dreadful yet liberating and empowering. Many people fear death, or are uncomfortable with the finality of life. Most religions address this peace-of-mind dilemma and incorporate some sort of eternal life into their doctrines. However, our mortality doesn't have to be a downer or source of preoccupation. Use it as motivation to do the things you've thus far postponed for a rainy day. The people that surround us are also mortal - share time with them while you still can and tell them how they enrich your life. I like to think of mortal life as a summer vacation - knowing it will soon come to an end makes it that much sweeter in the present moment. People who truly comprehend mortality live every day to its absolute fullest, savoring each moment like a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Please buy that ticket to Vitoria while you still can...