The Costs We Pay for Staying Alive

(A modern myth for mortals in denial)

Once upon a time or maybe last Tuesday the gods were handing out immortality. Everyone showed up with gifts to barter: devotion, discipline, sacrifice. Then came humanity, empty-handed, latte in one hand and excuses in the other.

We didn’t get immortality. We got subscription-based existence instead.

Even the mighty gods understood balance. Shiva meditated for centuries, Vishnu took power naps that lasted yugas, and even Zeus paused his thunderbolts long enough to recharge. But we? We scroll at 2 a.m. convincing ourselves sleep is for the weak. The gods had rituals; we have reminders.

Take poor King Ravana ten heads, zero chill. Could’ve ruled eternity, but overworked himself into a cosmic burnout. Or Achilles peak performance until one tiny oversight (a literal heel) proved that wellness is all about the small things you ignore.

It’s almost funny how we keep reenacting these myths daily.

We chase deadlines like demons, worship productivity like a false god, and only when our bodies start cracking like ancient temples do we remember — oh right, maintenance.

We spend on supplements and spa days trying to reverse what a bit of common sense could’ve prevented. But suffering is our favorite teacher; we only read the manual after the machine starts smoking.

The cost of staying alive isn’t paid in gold or time it’s paid in awareness. Ignore it, and life becomes a debt collector with divine persistence.

So maybe the real moral of every myth wasn’t about power or glory it was about pacing.

Even immortals rested. Maybe we should, too.