Purpose – Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership

What I’d Tell a 21-Year-Old Now

My niece is turning 21 in a couple of weeks. That milestone prompted me to go back and read a post I wrote in 2013 called Advice for a New 21-Year-Old.

Reading it now, I still stand behind it. But a lot has changed in the world and in me since then. A 21-year-old stepping into adulthood today faces a different landscape than the one I was writing about then. After more than a decade of watching young people navigate it, I think an update is in order.

Back in 2013, I intentionally opened with drinking and gambling. Those are two of the classic threshold items attached to turning 21. Things the world suddenly says you’re allowed to do.

Turning 21 feels significant in part because it comes with new freedoms. New access. New choices. New opportunities to say yes to things that used to be off limits.

But if I were to distill what I want to say today, it’s this:

The most important part of turning 21 isn’t what you’re allowed to do. It’s what you’re responsible for doing with your new freedom.

On Drinking

Back in 2013, I wrote specifically about types of alcohol, mixing drinks, drinking water between drinks, and a few other practical things. The tips were fun, and I meant them. But what I was really trying to say was simpler.

Don’t let alcohol become the thing that teaches you who you are.

A 21-year-old can easily mistake access for maturity. Being allowed to drink is one thing. Knowing how to carry yourself is another.

If you choose to drink, stay in charge of yourself. Stay aware. Stay responsible. Don’t confuse recklessness with fun, or excess with adulthood.

There’s nothing impressive about losing control, hurting people, damaging your future, or building habits that begin as entertainment and slowly become dependence.

Freedom says you can. Wisdom says you don’t always have to.

On Gambling

Gambling is worth talking about, less for the casino tips and more for what it teaches us about life.

A lot of life will tempt you into thinking you can outsmart systems that were built to profit from your confidence. Sometimes that system is a casino. Sometimes it’s consumer debt. Sometimes it’s a flashy investment story. Sometimes it’s just your own belief that you’re the exception to every warning sign.

Understand the odds. Understand the incentives. Understand that some games were built for you to lose slowly enough that you keep playing.

That lesson applies far beyond cards, dice, and slot machines.

On Money

At 21, your income may still be modest. Your savings may be thin. But your financial decisions aren’t any less meaningful.

This is the age when you should begin learning how money actually works.

Learn how to live below your means. Save at least 10% of your income, always. Learn how savings accumulate and compound over time. Einstein called compound interest the most powerful force in the universe, and he was right.

Learn how debt can easily grow if you allow it. Learn how investing works. Learn what markets do over time. Learn what risk is and what it isn’t. Learn how compounding works for you, or against you.

Don’t hand the whole subject over to experts and decide this isn’t for you.

It is for you.

Nobody can make this investment in your understanding except you. It’ll take effort, time, and discipline, but the payoff will be enormous. The earlier you begin, the more options you give yourself later.

On Taxes

This is one area I would add much more explicitly today.

Taxes shape your paycheck, your investments, your business decisions, your home decisions, and your retirement decisions. They are one of the most powerful forces shaping the economy around you. Most people your age treat taxes like background noise. They are anything but background noise.

Learn how federal income taxes work. Learn how your state handles taxes, including property taxes. Learn the basic tax forms. Learn what withholding is. Learn the difference between deductions and credits (it’s a big one). Learn how capital gains differ from ordinary income.

Most importantly, learn how and why governments shift tax policy. You’ll find that it’s often less about revenue generation and more about encouraging or discouraging certain behaviors. When you understand this, the debates about tax policy start making a lot more sense.

You don’t need to become a tax attorney. But you do need to stop treating taxes as some mysterious thing that happens in the background while adults in suits handle it for you.

The sooner you understand taxes, the less often you’ll be surprised by them.

On AI and Paying Attention to the Future

This didn’t belong in the 2013 version the way it does now.

If I were talking to a new 21-year-old today, I’d tell them to learn how to use AI well.

Not as a crutch. Not as a substitute for thinking. Not as some fantasy weapon that will let you dominate the world.

Use it as a tool.

Use it to expand your access to knowledge. Use it to test ideas. Use it to get a rough draft or minimum viable product moving. Learn what a minimum viable product is and why it matters so much to growth.

Use it to make an idea more tangible. Use it to model possibilities. Use it to iterate faster. Use it to tighten your thinking by forcing your vague idea into something clearer and more real.

An idea in your head can feel pretty smart. The moment you try to express it, structure it, test it, or build it into something visible, you’ll begin to see its strengths and weaknesses. AI can help accelerate your thinking process.

A lot of people are afraid that AI will eliminate jobs, upend industries, and leave ordinary people behind. That fear is understandable. But the larger pattern is nothing new.

History is full of major technological shifts that changed the economic framework people were living in. Industrialization changed everything. Then electricity. Then assembly lines, cars, computers, the internet, and smartphones. Each wave brought creative destruction. Old methods faded, old jobs shrank, new opportunities appeared, new leaders emerged.

AI is doing the same thing now. And the people who will thrive aren’t the ones who wish the old way would come back. They’re the ones paying attention to where the world is going, and responding.

Pay attention to what’s becoming easier, faster, cheaper, more valuable, or more scalable. Pay attention to which skills are fading and which ones are growing. Then adapt. Learn. Position yourself well.

That’s a far better response than fear.

On Health

At 21, most people feel almost invincible. That feeling can fool you into thinking poor habits are free. They aren’t. They just send their bills later.

Make physical activity a normal part of your life. Build it into your routine so deeply that you miss it when it’s absent. Walk. Run. Lift. Stretch. Work outside. Stay active in ways that make your mind and body stronger, more capable, and more durable.

Healthy habits pay real dividends over time. Energy, mobility, resilience, mental clarity, confidence, longevity, and quality of life. These aren’t accidents. They grow out of a disciplined and consistent approach to taking care of yourself.

If you build a strong base now, your future self will thank you.

On Faith

A 21-year-old may or may not have ever been meaningfully exposed to faith. Some were raised around it. Some were barely around it at all. Some were exposed to a shallow version of it and walked away before they were old enough to examine it for themselves.

But by 21, your openness to faith is your responsibility.

Faith should never be reduced to pretending. You don’t need to manufacture certainty where you still have questions. But you should stay open enough to seriously consider that life is more than work, pleasure, achievement, money, and survival.

Ask the bigger questions.

Why are you here? What is good? What is true? What does it mean to live well? What does it mean to love well?

These are foundational questions. If you ignore them, you’ll still build your life on some kind of answer. You just may not realize it.

Faith has a way of changing the scale of everything. It changes how you think about suffering, success, failure, purpose, love, forgiveness, responsibility, and hope. It gives context to things that otherwise feel random, hollow, or purely material.

Stay open. Read. Ask. Listen. Seek out serious people of faith, not just loud people with opinions.

You don’t have to have everything figured out at 21. But you’re old enough to begin seeking honestly.

On Learning from Good People

Find good people and pay attention to them.

Look for people whose lives make sense up close, not just people who look impressive from far away. Find people who have built something solid. Who work hard, keep their word, love their families well, handle money responsibly, and have endured difficulty without becoming cynical.

Ask questions. Watch what they do. Learn from their patterns.

At 21, you’re old enough to choose your influences more deliberately than ever before. Choose wisely.

On Freedom

Turning 21 brings new freedom. But freedom by itself is only raw material.

What matters is what you build with it. You can use it to drift, indulge, imitate, and react. Or you can use it to build capability, health, wisdom, faith, discipline, and a life that stands up under real weight.

That’s the better use of it.

The world tends to celebrate 21 by pointing to what you can now do.

I’d rather point to what you can begin becoming. That’s where the real opportunity is.

Happy Birthday, Isabella, from your favorite uncle.

Photo by Shai Pal on Unsplash

The Rocks, A Higher Gear, and Campfires

In 2013, I wrote a short post called We Are All Mountain Climbers.

The idea was simple. If you look closely at life, you’ll see that everyone is climbing something.

A career. A relationship. A difficult time in their lives. A personal challenge.

Life has a way of placing mountains in front of us. Or maybe…we’re just good at finding them.

As I wrote back then, the climb only makes sense from the inside. Watching others or hearing their stories are no substitute for taking it on yourself.

There was another part of the metaphor that mattered even more.

Many of us start the climb with backpacks full of things that make our journey harder than it needs to be. Old resentments. Lingering disappointments. Criticism that stuck with us longer than it should have. Sometimes we even carry baggage that belongs to someone else.

Years later, I came across a Buddhist parable that gave a new wrapper to this idea. It described people walking through life carrying large boulders. Anger. Ego. Grudges. The suffering didn’t come from the boulders themselves. It came from choosing to pick them up.

In 2015, I wrote about riding my mountain bike.

Whenever a hill approached, I had a habit of shifting into an easier gear before the climb even began. It felt like preparation. It felt like the smart thing to do.

One day I tried something different. Instead of downshifting, I shifted to a higher gear and pushed harder.

To my surprise, I climbed much faster than before, without bonking like I thought might happen.

Sometimes growth means discovering we’re stronger than we realize.

That experience raised questions I still ask myself.

Where else in life do I downshift before the hill arrives?

Am I protecting myself from difficulty…or underestimating what I’m capable of?

Recently, I read a post by Tim Ferriss about the “self-help trap.” He described sitting around a campfire one evening with a small group of close friends, the kind of unhurried night where the conversation slows down enough for truths to surface. He found himself thinking about the fire, and then realizing the fire wasn’t the point. The people sitting around it were.

He described how easily we can become so absorbed in optimizing ourselves, tracking progress, chasing improvement, climbing toward our next summit, that we lose sight of why we started climbing in the first place.

Summits will eventually fade. Our achievements will blur with time. Recognition disappears quicker than we expect.

Perhaps the real work of self-improvement is simpler than we think.

The rocks we’re carrying were never necessary.

The hills we fear are usually smaller than we imagine, or remember.

And the fire, the one worth tending, isn’t the one powering our ambition. It’s the one we gather around with the people we love.

Photo by Marc Zimmer on Unsplash

Living Inside History

Every generation believes it’s living through extraordinary change.

And in a way, every generation is right.

Economic strain, political division, conflict, and rapid technological change appear in different forms, but the underlying tension remains the same.

Ray Dalio describes what he calls the Big Cycle. The rise and decline of nations shaped by debt, money, internal division, and shifting global power. He would say we’re late in that cycle, marked by high debt, widening wealth gaps, and growing competition among world powers.

Harry Dent approaches history through demographics, studying population growth, and generational spending patterns. From his view, today’s economic strain reflects aging populations, slower growth, and the unwinding of decades of expansion.

Different perspectives. Similar conclusions.

Neither claim to predict the future with precision. Debt cycles, demographic waves, generational moods, technological revolutions, and geopolitical tensions move simultaneously. Understanding these forces and their patterns helps us recognize the currents. How we live within them is still our responsibility.

I remember the OPEC oil embargo of the 1970s and gas lines stretching for blocks. I was in elementary school as interest rates climbed above twenty percent. I watched the Reagan Revolution reshape economic thinking and bring supply-side theory into the mainstream.

I lived through the Iranian Revolution in 1979, the taking of US hostages, and the subsequent spread of militant extremism across parts of the Muslim world over the next four decades. I watched an airplane strike the World Trade Center in real time.

I grew up under the shadow of the Cold War, when nuclear conflict felt possible at any moment. I saw the optimism that followed the fall of the Soviet Union and then watched China open to the world after decades of isolation. I remember the theories about how expanding capitalism in China might soften their communist approach to governing.

I witnessed the savings and loan collapse, multiple stock market crashes, the Great Recession, and a global pandemic that disrupted economies, institutions, and families alike. I watched how strongly governments grasp control when certainty disappears.

I saw personal computers and then the internet transform daily life, followed by the digital economy, smartphones, social media, and now artificial intelligence reshaping work itself.

I can think of countless other historical events that have happened in the span of one life. Each moment felt unprecedented. Each reshaped the world, sometimes positively, sometimes negatively.

And yet, life continued.

When history is written, it focuses almost entirely on macro events. The narratives are dominated by wars, collapses, elections, revolutions, and markets. What rarely appears are the countless individual lives unfolding quietly alongside these events.

History does not record families eating dinner together during times of high inflation. Nor does it record weddings that took place during recessions or children born during wars. It overlooks the laughter that survived fear and the quiet courage required to just keep going.

But these individual experiences of life form the definition of humanity.

For every name preserved in textbooks, millions of people were doing what people have always done. They worked. They loved. They raised children. They cared for neighbors. They hoped tomorrow might be a little better than today.

Macro forces shape conditions. They influence opportunity and may narrow our options. They may, unfortunately, end our life or the lives of someone we love. But they don’t define a life.

Inside every macro upheaval exists our “micro” life. The life lived within the headlines rather than dictated by them.

The world may determine interest rates. It does not decide whether we act with kindness. It may influence careers, but it does not control our integrity. It may introduce hardship, but it does not determine how we respond.

Our response is where freedom still lives.

Viktor Frankl understood this more clearly than almost anyone. After enduring unimaginable suffering in Nazi concentration camps, he observed that nearly all external freedoms can be taken from a person. One freedom remains intact. The ability to choose one’s attitude and response to circumstances.

Events may constrain us. They may demand adaptation. They will never own our human spirit.

In my office, I have a wall filled with photographs. Family gatherings. Wedding days. Trips taken together. Beautiful places. Ordinary moments that became lasting memories.

When I step back and look at this wall, patterns appear.

We worked hard.

We made time for one another.

We traveled together.

We celebrated milestones.

We were living out our hopes and dreams, and we still are.

My wall has no charts or financial forecasts. No macro trend lines. But it tells the story of what matters most.

None of these moments waited for ideal conditions. They unfolded alongside inflation, recessions, political change, and uncertainty. The photographs capture lives shaped by ordinary but important choices made amid extraordinary times.

As we traveled, we met families across many countries. Different customs. Different faiths. Different governments. Yet everywhere we went, the hopes sounded familiar. Parents wanting the best for their children. Families striving for opportunity. Communities longing to contribute and belong.

The differences emphasized by the world shrink quickly when people speak about those they love.

Human aspirations remain remarkably consistent.

History changes its outward form. The heart changes very little.

You will live through upheavals of your own. Some will be frightening. Some will be unfair. Some will test your trust in institutions or leaders.

Remember this.

You are not responsible for controlling history. You are responsible for how you live inside it.

You will not choose the history that surrounds you. You will choose the values you carry through it.

You choose how you treat people.

You choose how to adapt.

You choose how you show up for your family.

You choose whether uncertainty hardens you or deepens your compassion.

You choose whether fear leads or faith steadies you.

These are your choices. Always.

Humanity endures because ordinary people continue to build their lives amid uncertainty. They love, they work, they fail, they adapt, and they hope, even while larger forces move around them.

While empires rise and fall, families persist.

That is the quiet march you belong to. Rarely captured by historians yet carried forward by generations.

History happens around you.

Life happens within you.

Live your life well. Love deeply. Work honestly. Stay flexible. Hold your faith. Care for one another.

If you do that, you will live a meaningful life regardless of when you were born.

As I was finishing this post, I found these quotes from George Bernard Shaw. The words come from two different writings of his from the early 1900’s. Together they express something important about what it means to live well within whatever history hands us.

“This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. “

“I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatsoever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no ‘brief candle’ for me. It is a sort of splendid torch, which I have got hold of for the moment; and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”

h/t – Atkins Bookshelf

Photo by Federico Giampieri on Unsplash

If this post resonated with you, feel free to share it with someone who might appreciate it as well.

You can also listen to the Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership Podcast, where I share short reflections on leadership, life, and learning.

Thanks for reading!

Teachers, Mentors, and the Grace That Carries Us

“There is no Frigate like a Book / To take us Lands away.”

Emily Dickinson wrote these words in her quiet room, understanding something I didn’t grasp for decades. The greatest journeys begin within.

I know her poem only because of my 11th grade AP English teacher, Mr. Cox. As a rambunctious and cocky 11th grader, would I have taken any of my “super valuable” time to read poems, sonnets, short stories, even books? No way.

But because of his work (and the work of countless other teachers along the way), I did read. A lot. I learned tons of material and information that didn’t matter to me at the time…but matter a lot today.

My focus back then was simple. Be the best student, get the highest test scores, pass as many AP tests as possible, and earn varsity letters in multiple sports. Mostly, I wanted to beat everyone else, pure and simple. It helped that I was blessed with an almost photographic memory and could recall facts and formulas with ease (sadly, not so much nowadays).

I carried that mindset into college. I loved being the student who defined the grading curve for the class. I was annoyed if I didn’t get every single point on an assignment, midterm, or final. I had an almost uncontrollable drive to outshine everyone…as if that was all that mattered.

I was completely wrong.

On the bright side, that drive and motivation made me a successful student and propelled me into my early career.

On the other hand, seeing everyone as my competition, and less as people, meant I probably missed out on a lot of fun. And lots of friendships that never happened. I was so focused on the destination that I forgot to notice who was traveling with me.

That realization connects me back to Dickinson’s frigate in ways I never expected. She saw the book as a vessel capable of carrying anyone, anywhere, without cost or permission. But what I’ve learned over nearly fifty years since high school is that I was asking the wrong question. It was never “How far can I go?” It was “Who am I becoming, and who’s helping me understand?”

My journey from that hyper-competitive teenager to what I hope is a much more caring, thoughtful, empathetic, nuanced, and life-giving person has been propelled by those same teachers I mentioned earlier, and a longer line of guides who keep showing up at the right time in my life.

I didn’t realize it then, but those books, poems, and teachers were all part of my fleet of frigates. Each one quietly helped me close the distance between knowledge and understanding, between my ambition and wisdom.

My mentors, family, and friends have all been vessels that carried me through changing seas. Some taught me to sail straight into the wind. Others reminded me that drifting for a while can be part of my journey as well. Each lesson mattered, even the ones that didn’t make sense at the time…especially those.

Over time, life has a way of sanding down our sharper edges, revealing something deeper underneath. My focus slowly shifted from being the best at something to becoming the best version of myself.

Now, when I think about Emily Dickinson’s frigate, I picture something far greater than a book. I picture a lifetime of learning, carried by the people who invested their time, wisdom, and patience in me. Mr. Cox, and others who gave freely of their time and wisdom, helped me see that the destination isn’t solely becoming the top of the class. It’s finding a profound depth of understanding, the expansion of empathy, and the ability to see beauty and meaning in small, unexpected places.

If I could go back and talk to that 16-year-old version of myself, I’d tell him the real tests aren’t scored on paper. They’re graded every day in how we treat people, how we listen, and how we show grace.

I’d tell him that the frigate he thinks he’s steering alone has always been guided by grace. The true measure of his voyage will be how much space he makes for others to come aboard.

We’re all learning to sail, carried by the steady hand of God.

We never really travel alone.

Photo by Rafael Garcin on Unsplash

The Pathways to a Rewarding Life

Finding Purpose at Every Age

From thirty thousand feet, the land below looks like a patchwork of roads and fields. Each marks a choice someone once made about where to go. Some stretch straight and steady. Others twist through hills or fade out of sight. Together they form a map of movement and direction, a living story of people who kept choosing the next road.

Life feels the same way. The routes change, but the invitation stays the same. Keep moving to find greater meaning.

The most rewarding paths often pass through three places. Serving others, staying curious, and daring to pursue new goals.

Service opens our heart. When we give to something beyond ourselves, our life expands. For the younger generation, it teaches them that purpose grows through generosity and connection. Helping a friend, joining a cause, or showing up for someone who needs encouragement builds an identity rooted in contribution. Later in life, service transforms experience into legacy. It turns lessons into guidance and presence into impact. Every act of service whispers that we still matter.

Curiosity keeps that whisper alive. It invites discovery and reminds us that wonder never expires. For young adults, curiosity shifts attention from comparison to possibility. It fuels creativity and builds resilience (because nobody said it would be easy). For those further down the road, curiosity revives joy. Learning something new, exploring unfamiliar tools, or asking deeper questions renews their spirit.

Big goals complete the trio. Ambition alone can fade, but big dreams shaped by purpose bring hope to life. For the young, bold goals turn uncertainty into motion. For the experienced, they rekindle the thrill of becoming. The thrill of pursuing. Every goal, whether to build, create, teach, or grow, reminds the soul that movement still matters. Hope rises with every goal we dare to pursue.

Many people never take these paths. Fear of failure, fear of embarrassment, fear of losing face…they each build fences where we can hide. Quiet excuses convincing us to play small and call it wisdom.

Fear says, “Stay comfortable.” Curiosity says, “Let’s see what happens.”

When fear wins, both young and old lose sight of their forward motion. The young adult who fears being judged easily drifts into hopelessness. The older adult who hesitates to dream again slips into quiet surrender. The reasons sound different, yet the root feels the same. Fear has taken the wheel. Stagnation and hopelessness follow.

Purpose waits just ahead. It lives in the next act of kindness, the next mystery to be solved, the next dream still worth chasing.

The pathways to a rewarding life have no finish line. Every act of service, every curious step, every daring goal breathes new life into our soul.

When we explore these paths, joy and fulfillment will be our companion.

Photo by Line Kjær on Unsplash – I wonder what’s in the next valley. Let’s go find out.

Commitment Leads to Fulfillment

Zig Ziglar once said, “It was character that got us out of bed, commitment that moved us into action, and discipline that enabled us to follow through.”

This perfectly describes the driver of true achievement. It’s not just the initial desire or excitement that propel us, but the dedication to stick with something until the end.

I accidentally saw this idea come to life during a recent road trip. I stopped by a taco shop. It happened to be near a beach and was clearly a popular local destination. The tacos were excellent, but that’s not the point of this story.

As I sat on the patio eating my carnitas tacos and enjoying the view, I couldn’t help overhearing a conversation at the table that less than two feet away. Two early-twenties (by my estimation) men were talking about how amazing the surfing had been earlier that morning.

I got from the conversation that they had been surfing together since they were teenagers and this morning’s session was a long-overdue reunion of sorts since they hadn’t surfed together in quite some time.

One of them made a comment that stuck with me: “Surfing is the only time I’m really alive. I know what I’m doing and can feel the water telling me what to do. I wish I could get that kind of fulfillment out of the rest of my life. I feel like I’m just wandering around, waiting until I can surf again.”

It wasn’t long before his friend responded, “I know what you mean. I’ve had to settle down these past couple of years. I got a dog, and it’s been a lot of responsibility, but he’s amazing. He loves the beach, so I take him there as often as I can.”

Then came the real kicker. The first guy, the “wandering” one, responded, “Maybe that’s something I should do. I can’t get motivated at work and just want to quit. Maybe getting a dog would help me commit to the work.”

He used an extremely important word—commit. It was evident these two men are deeply committed to surfing. It’s their passion, and it gives them a sense of fulfillment that’s absent in other areas of their lives. Surfing isn’t something they merely do—it is something they live for. But beyond surfing, they lack the same kind of dedication. Their passion for the sport brings them joy because they are fully invested in it, heart and soul.

The wandering friend’s dilemma isn’t uncommon. Many people struggle with finding motivation in their daily lives. They haven’t truly committed to something that extends beyond their comfort zone or personal hobbies. They desire fulfillment without realizing that commitment is often their missing link.

It was as though this young man had stumbled upon the key to unlocking motivation and purpose: he needed to commit. Whether it is work, relationships, or another area of his life, the power to find meaning and fulfillment can only come from his willingness to fully invest in something.

Goethe once said, “At the moment of commitment, the entire universe conspires to assist you.” This idea aligns with the realization that real fulfillment only comes from investing fully in what we do. When we are all in, we aren’t just going through the motions—we are owning the process, taking charge of the outcome, and continually working toward our goals.

The wandering surfer may never have thought about his job as something worth committing to. To him, it was just a means to an end, something he had to do so he could afford to spend time doing what he really wanted—to surf. But if he can shift his mindset and fully invest in his work with the same passion and dedication he gives to surfing, the fulfillment he seeks might not seem so elusive.

Fulfillment doesn’t come from merely reaching a goal or winning a trophy. As Cardinal Pell put it, “Commitment to a worthwhile goal brings fulfillment and meaning, even if the path is difficult.” The true joy and deep sense of satisfaction come from the commitment itself—the effort, discipline, and perseverance that drive us toward our goal.

If you’re handed a trophy without having worked for it, it’s meaningless. You know deep down that you didn’t earn it, didn’t push through the challenges, didn’t grow in the process. But if you earn that trophy through your own hard work and dedication, it’s a symbol of something far greater than the achievement—it’s proof of your commitment.

In the end, what we commit to is what brings meaning to our lives. Whether it’s our relationships, our careers, or even something as personal as surfing, the act of giving our all, of pushing through the hard times, is what fills us with a sense of purpose.

The wandering surfer wasn’t lost because he lacked passion; he was lost because he hadn’t fully committed to anything beyond the waves.

To truly live a fulfilling life, we must commit wholeheartedly. When we do, we’ll find that the truest sense of fulfillment comes from the dedication and growth that only commitment can bring.

Photo by Blake Hunter on Unsplash

Are You Willing?

All that matters is learning what you believe in…

“I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes. Every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing, and yet they give their lives to that little or nothing. One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it and then it’s gone. But to surrender what you are and to live without belief is more terrible than dying—even more terrible than dying young.” –Joan of Arc

Joan of Arc lived less than twenty years. Yet she fought for her beliefs and made a huge impact on history. She died for her beliefs at an age when many are just beginning their life’s journey.

She knew what she believed in. She knew what it meant to sacrifice for her beliefs. Ask anyone who serves or served in the military, a first responder who runs into a burning building to save others, or a newly formed priest who has answered God’s call. These are just a few examples. Each of them know what it means to sacrifice for their beliefs.

Sometimes our beliefs emerge quietly without our knowledge. We go through life, making seemingly inconsequential decisions about what we will and won’t do. We decide who our friends are, and how much we will let them into our lives. We decide when to listen. We decide how honest we will be with the world around us.

We establish habits for living our life, and we go on our merry way.

Do you know what you believe in? Really? Do you know what you believe to be true? Do you know what is important in your life?

Have you made the quiet time in your life that’s necessary to consider these questions?

What if it turns out that the things you believe in aren’t manifested in the way you live? Are you willing to change your habits? Are you willing to eliminate the things that don’t support your beliefs? Will you support your beliefs in the way you live, and the way you work with others? Are you willing to make your beliefs the centerpiece of your actions in everything you do?

Joan of Arc was right. One life is all we have, and then it’s gone.

Where are you in that one life? Is it too late to examine your beliefs and change the way you live?

The answer is clear But, it won’t become obvious until we make quiet time in our lives to reflect. When we do, we find it’s never too late to examine our beliefs and change our life.

Every day is a new beginning if we choose to make it so. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. It doesn’t matter who wronged you. It doesn’t matter if you had a terrible childhood. It doesn’t matter if you’ve missed opportunities in the past. It certainly doesn’t matter if you failed in the past.

All that matters is learning what you believe in. Then, deciding what to do with that new knowledge, starting today.

The only question is: Are you willing to find out?

h/t: Matthew Kelly

Exceeding Your Vision

The following is not an excerpt from my new book, Leadership Starts (and Ends) in Your Head…the rest is detail. But, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it here (and highly recommend it).

-What do you want to be when you grow up?

-Now that you’ve graduated, what are your plans?

-Congratulations on your marriage. Here’s to a long and happy life! Where are you two planning to live?

-I heard about your new job. That’s great! What are your prospects for career growth there?

-I heard you don’t really like your job? What would you do if money wasn’t an object?

Each of these questions are about goals and vision. Where do you see yourself today and in the future? What defines success for you and how will you get there? What path are you on and will it get you where you want to go?

But, what happens when you reach your future? Will you know you’ve arrived? What happens when your vision for the future comes true?

You achieve, even exceed, everything you had in mind when you started. You exceed your vision.

Sounds like a good problem to have.

Consider the retiree who has no idea what to do with his/her time now that work doesn’t occupy their day. The stay-at-home mom whose kids are all grown up and moved away. The thirty-two-year-old internet entrepreneur who just sold his company for $500 million. They have reached their goal line, that place they’ve dreamed about.

Their vision led them here, but what’s next?

I’m reminded of a quote by Walt Disney: “All of our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”

For most, the courageous part is the pursuit. For others, courage is their willingness to find new dreams when the first ones come true.

As we go through our lives, chasing goals, climbing mountains, and living the dream, it might be worthwhile to extend our vision. Look past our first set of goals; the ones that occupy most of our time.

Look toward the greater goals, and broader definitions of our dreams. Seek the true definition of our potential. Our ultimate purpose.

Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do. -Pope John XXIII