We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets. — Marilyn Monroe
The Urgency of Starting Now
Monroe’s charge to live before we get too old names a quiet human habit: postponing life until a vague tomorrow. Seneca’s On the Shortness of Life (c. 49 AD) warned that delay is the true thief of years, not the calendar itself. We overestimate future bandwidth and underestimate the cost of deferring joy, craft, and connection. Psychologists call this the planning fallacy, our bias toward imagining more time and fewer obstacles than reality allows. Consequently, starting now is less about reckless speed than honest accounting. Time compounds like interest; small investments in meaning—calling a friend, learning a skill, taking a walk—grow into durable wealth. The alternative is the someday trap, where good intentions congeal into routines that feel safe but leave little room for aliveness.
Fear as a Counterfeit Advisor
From this premise, Monroe’s blunt verdict on fear reframes it as a miscalibrated signal. Evolution tuned our alarms for predators, not presentations, art, or intimacy. Thus the amygdala often flags false positives, while our rational mind backfills stories that sound wise. Prospect theory (Kahneman and Tversky, 1979) shows loss looms larger than gain, so fear routinely overprices potential pain and underprices growth. Accordingly, calling fear stupid is not an insult to caution; it is a critique of bad advice. Treated as data—not destiny—fear can be consulted and then overruled when it protects comfort more than dignity or purpose.
Why Regret Hurts More Over Time
Meanwhile, Monroe links fear to its downstream cost: regret. Research by Gilovich and Medvec (1995) found that, in the long run, people regret inactions more than actions. Short-term, mistakes sting; long-term, missed chances ache. Hospice nurse Bronnie Ware’s The Top Five Regrets of the Dying (2011) echoes this pattern: the wish to have lived a life true to oneself, not one scripted by others. Thus, regrets accumulate interest when we defer core values. The career not pursued, the apology not made, the love not expressed become heavier as memory edits out the risks we once perceived and leaves only the hollow where a choice might have been.
Courage as a Daily Micro-Practice
Consequently, living now is less a grand gesture than a series of manageable experiments. Exposure principles in psychology suggest that small, repeated steps shrink fear’s footprint. Implementation intentions (Gollwitzer, 1999) operationalize this: if it is 7 a.m., then I write for ten minutes; if I feel anxious, then I take three slow breaths and proceed. Over time, these micro-braveries build identity. Each kept promise becomes evidence: I am a person who shows up. The result is not bravado but reliability, the quiet courage to move despite uncertainty, which steadily starves regret of its favorite food—delay.
Illustrations from Icons and Everyday People
Moreover, biographies and ordinary lives alike demonstrate the principle. Monroe herself pivoted from factory work to modeling to film, repeatedly risking reinvention rather than settling for predictable safety. Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning (1946) shows how purpose can be chosen even under extreme constraint, sharpening the point that meaning requires agency, not permission. Likewise, public examples like Fauja Singh, who ran marathons into his 100s, reveal that starting late is still starting—but also that vitality grows by use, not by waiting. The pattern remains consistent: action clarifies; hesitation fogs.
Designing a Life with Fewer Regrets
Finally, we can architect choices that outsmart fear and regret. A premortem (Gary Klein, 2007) imagines a future failure and asks what caused it, turning vague dread into solvable risks. Jeff Bezos’s regret minimization framework invites a far-future view: at age 80, which choice would I wish I had made? Both tools widen perspective when emotions are loud. Then, anchor values in calendars: schedule friendships, craft, rest, and service as nonnegotiables. Add review rituals—weekly or monthly—to ask what felt alive, what felt dead, and what one small next step would tilt the balance. In this way, living before we get too old becomes a practiced habit, not a postponed hope.