We often inquire about the secret to longevity from elderly individuals. Some attribute it to “laughter,” while others mention olive oil, sex, or even cigarettes. I can envision the subtle grin on the centenarian’s face as they recite their customary line each birthday. The real essence of their longevity advice seems to boil down to a simple yet profound truth – “Don’t die.” Today, this age-old question has gained new prominence and exposure within the longevity market, driven by advancements in technology and projected to flourish by 2030.
It’s intriguing how swiftly one transitions from being a youthful mischief-maker writing playful words on a calculator to evolving into a middle-aged tycoon sporting a ring that tracks erections and indulging in rejuvenating blood transfusions from the younger generation in a quest for immortality. This narrative encapsulates the contemporary trajectory of the “tech bros,” who amassed fortunes creating mundane apps that defy description in conventional terms, only to splurge their wealth on the pursuit of god-like longevity. This narrative troubles me. It troubles me deeply! Not necessarily the pursuit of longevity research itself or the endeavors to combat fatal diseases – by all means, let innovation flourish in that realm – but the somber, vacuous endeavors to prolong the lives of those who seem to have it all.
As a woman born with eyes and skin, I believe I possess a unique perspective on the longevity market, which mirrors the eternal youth promises of the beauty industry. Isn’t a significant portion of this merely a rebranded form of anti-aging practices? This query arises from the middle-aged biotech entrepreneur spearheading the “Don’t Die” movement. Numerous profiles have chronicled his relentless quest for immortality: from his predawn rituals to experimental bone marrow transplants and the sale of a mysterious protein-rich substance for $79. However, the “challenges” that individuals like Johnson aim to address are all too familiar – they revolve around the tribulations associated with continued existence. Instead of fixating on external manifestations of aging like “wrinkles and fine lines,” the focus shifts inward. By framing it as longevity rather than anti-aging, it attracts a demographic previously uninterested in rejuvenation techniques. These are the individuals delving into algorithms for eternal life, exploring gene therapy, and subsisting solely on hummus.
The pervasive demand for life-extending products, beyond the affluent elite, and the incessant evolution of the wellness industry stem from a collective sense of neglect and desperation; the wellness sector capitalizes on our solitude. Longevity, as a component of this industry, thrives on fear. This fear extends beyond the apprehension of vanishing upon death; it encompasses the dread of being forgotten as we age. Companies rake in billions by peddling products infused with blueberries, fostering an illusion of control over our mortality.
Nonetheless, what remains unclear to me is the underlying motivation of these seekers of longevity. It appears to be an ungratifying race, rooted in the dread of death rather than a celebration of life – a solemn, frenzied pursuit uphill, fueled by panic and hydration. Is this the essence of existence? Merely a relentless endeavor to evade death? Prolonging life seems meaningful only if the quality of life itself holds value. Instead of fixating on arresting the aging process, shouldn’t our focus be on enhancing communal well-being for the present generation? Rather than elongating the lifespan of a select few to 120, our efforts should be directed towards extending the lives of the millions worldwide who face the risk of premature mortality. Our gaze is directed in the wrong direction.
It’s disheartening to contemplate that our descendants are destined to encounter the most disagreeable remnants of our era. Instead of encountering jovial smokers, early risers, or individuals reveling in simple pleasures, they will inherit a cohort of optimized centenarians, their chiseled bodies resembling confectionery bars, their gaze fixated on a world dominated by supplements and elixirs. These are the legacies we are bequeathing, embodied by individuals fixated on longevity, with antiquated opinions and antiquated tastes. Can you envision the world they will construct for themselves? An underground retirement sanctuary where men engage in digital games while siphoning vitality from perpetually emaciated teenagers consuming copious amounts of liver and kale, accompanied by a remix of a classic Coldplay track softly reverberating through the walls.
Personally, I prioritize quality of life over longevity; relishing in 80 vibrant summers, savoring around 15 exceptional novels, indulging in prestigious reality TV, and a hint of danger and desire. A handful of mischievous companions, love, a shaded pool – these are the simple pleasures that enrich existence. A single tantalizing piece of gossip can sustain one for a decade at least. I would always opt for joy and its associated transgressions over the opportunity to outlive my loved ones and peers, simply to evade a lifetime mired in perpetual sorrow, which, to me, is no life at all. Perhaps few would contest this sentiment, yet we are blindly ushered into a future where, as healthy individuals, we fail to question the compulsion to prolong, postpone, and stretch the boundaries of time. It appears that the sole individuals yearning for immortality are those incapable of finding contentment in their present lives.