Plutarch tells the story of how Alexander the Great came upon Diogenes looking attentively at a heap of human bones.

“What are you looking for?” asked Alexander.

“Something that I cannot find,” said the philosopher.

“And what is that?”

“The difference between your father’s bones and those of his slaves.”

I remember travelling through Turkey and Greece and coming to the place where the father of Alexander the Great was buried. A great tomb—ornate, covered in gold—it was considered a great find to locate the tomb of King Philip II and his Queen.

But bones are bones. Dry, white, fractured bones. Crumbling, exhausted, remnants of life—no matter if they belong to king or peasant.

It reminds us to live the moment but also know that the moment ends.

It is an invitation to live both vibrantly and compassionately so that each person can enjoy their time under the sun.