A friend’s father used to say that he was going to live to be 100. An honorable goal, I guess. I don’t know his reasoning for setting it, or if he made it that far. And I’m not sure to what extent sheer will plays a role in length of days.
Living a very long life so as to postpone death is one thing. Living a very long life that still means something to somebody is another. The usual conversation on this topic goes something like, “I’d have to still enjoy a quality of life. I’d still want a certain autonomy, the capacity to function and interact, and not be a burden on anyone…”
A cold take on things might get one thinking that if we stick around long enough, we do become burdens. We take up space and deplete resources that could be used by someone younger and more vital. Of course, vitality is already no longer the sole possession of the young.
If my longevity came at the cost of burdening or outliving friends and family, then I’d have to say no to this. If we as a species are at a point where we could support longevity across generations, then maybe.
It seems that a long life is still something of a happy accident or a curse, a combination of lifestyle choices, dietary habits, genes, and the motivation that comes from a fear of death as an unknown. It makes sense that we hold onto what we know for as long as we can.
3 Cents' 