Why does time feel like it's speeding up as I get older and what can I do about it?

Time doesn't actually accelerate—but your perception of it does. When you're young, each year is a larger fraction of your life. At five, a year is twenty percent of everything you've known. At fifty, it's two percent. The math is relentless. But there's something deeper happening too: routine erases time. When days blur together—same commute, same tasks, same patterns—your brain stops encoding new memories. It feels like the year vanished because, neurologically, it barely registered. Laozi understood this. He spoke of wu wei, non-forcing action, but also of presence. The paradox is this: you can't slow time down, but you can make it feel fuller by interrupting the blur. Not through panic or productivity theater. Through noticing. A walk where you actually see the light. A conversation where you listen instead of think ahead. A skill learned slowly, badly, on purpose. These don't stop the clock. They just make your life denser—more lived in the same number of hours. Start small. One thing this week where you're genuinely present, not optimizing. Notice what that actually costs and what it gives back.