Well, today is the day. The cultural event where millions of people are unified in celebration of what many have called the biggest secular holiday in the United States, and possibly the world. 

Of course, I’m referring to my birthday. I’m not sure how I’ll mark the occasion, but perhaps there will be something interesting to watch on TV? 🏈 #SuperbOwl

It’s true; as of today, I am 48 years old. Is that old? It feels kinda old, but still a few years shy of fifty, so that’s something. I do relate to Margaret Atwood who believed, “Everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.” I now have peers who have died of “natural causes,” serving as a sobering reminder that time is ticking. In some respects, I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be, but on the other hand, I’m surprised—in a good way—about how everything has turned out so far.

I always love reading when people I admire share “X Things I’ve Learned in X Years of Life” on their birthdays, so I thought it might be fun to do that.

Oh, and instead of gifts, the best present you can give me is to share my work with someone else. If you know someone who might resonate with these words, please send them to this page (https://EscapeAdulthood.com/Insider) and invite them to subscribe. Thanks!

1. We were all experts once.
   
2. We all live by rules that don’t exist. There are a million of these rules. The best lives seem to be lived by the ones who break a lot of them.
   
3. You can follow best practices or you can be innovative, but you can’t do both.
   
4. Every single day is a reason to celebrate; it’s just that most days what to celebrate is up to us.
   
5. Life should get more fun as you get older, not less. You know more things, have more money, and can make more decisions on your own. Instead of living life with a big box of 64 crayons at our disposal, we regularly settle for the wimpy 8-pack, with the red, blue, and green crayons replaced with gray, beige, and mauve.
   
6. You can’t control what happens to you in life, you can only control how you react to it. This is a superpower few take advantage of.
   
7. Opportunities are everywhere in life. Sometimes they come disguised as monsoons. The next time a storm blows through your life, ask yourself, “Now that this has happened what does this make possible?” Do that, and you can expect a 100% chance of awesome.
   
8. The secret to (lasting) success in absolutely everything is this: do hard things. We waste a lot of time trying to find a shortcut around it, but none exists.
   
9. The only thing straight A’s tell you with certainty about a person is that they are good at school.
   
10. Your big dream will take longer than you think. It will also look different than you imagined. But it will be better and it will be worth it.
    
11. It’s easy to justify the lack of time we spend with loved ones by saying we have quality time together. Bulls#!t. Our relationships need quantity time. We assume that Hallmark moments can be created at will within the tiny slivers of time we carve between meetings, power lunches, recitals, soccer games, conference calls, and commutes to and from school and daycare. The busier you are and the more full your schedule, the more desperately you need this to be true. Quality time comes from quantity time.
    
12. It’s a waste of time to whine about and wish for someone else’s must be nice. Your job is to figure out yours and make the most of it.
    
13. The greatest ​game​ ever played was on a Wednesday in Cleveland.
    
14. If you say that you’re an artist, but aren’t making art, you’re not. (Replace the word “artist” with whatever you claim to be.)
    
15. Be careful how you define success. If you’re not careful, you can get duped into playing a game you don’t even care about and end up making choices that distract you from a game that does. Tiger Woods never beat himself up for not having as good a free throw percentage as Steph Curry. Get really clear on what game you’re playing. And don’t beat yourself up for being in last place in the games you’re not.
    
16. We act like the game of life is to check off as many things on our to-do list as possible. That’s the wrong game.
    
17. If God was as serious as some people imagine him to be, we’d never have the duck-billed platypus, giraffes, or Elton John.
    
18. Are kids the cause of or the cure for Adultitis? Turns out the answer is entirely up to you.
    
19. The most important thing you can do for the health and happiness of your family is to have dinner together. Dare to be the only house on the block to all be home for a family dinner five nights a week.
    
20. Some parents are verbs, some are nouns. There are way too many nouns.
    
21. Don’t let strangers be the main influencers in your child’s life.
    
22. Set aside one day a week to be free from all work and busyness, just spending time with your God and your family. No, the world might not be too keen about you dropping off the radar, but you know what? It’s not the world’s choice. It’s yours. The world is not the boss of you.
    
23. Sometimes we have to say no to the good to say yes to the best.
    
24. What good is the authority of parenthood if all you ever do is make rules? It’s easy for good parents (and teachers) to get so caught up in enforcing rules that they forget that they have permission to break them once in a while.
    
25. Monday’s don’t suck. It’s your job. We don’t hate work. We hate doing work that doesn’t matter. If you’re always thanking God for Friday, it might be time to make a change.
    
26. Many well-intentioned parents, grandparents, and teachers urge kids to get a job with good benefits. I couldn’t agree more. Just make sure they’re the ones you really want.
    
27. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, you’re trying to do too much.
    
28. Never let the fear of making a mess get in the way of making a memory.
    
29. We make time for the things that are important to us. If don’t have time for yourself (or your spouse, kids, family, exercise routine, charitable activities, a return to school, or your favorite hobby), it’s because it’s not that important to you. Our actions reveal our priorities.
    
30. Everyone says family first, but few have the actions to back it up.
    
31. There is a very good chance that you—right now—are currently smack dab in the middle of your “good old days.”
    
32. Someday is a code word for never. What are you hoping to do someday?
    
33. Who’s to say what’s realistic? Be careful about what you label as impossible. If a dream is realistic, it’s not really a dream. It’s a to-do.
    
34. It’s true, we are living in uncertain times. But are we ever living in certain times?
    
35. Fancy china is not about what’s on the plates, it’s about who’s around them.
    
36. They don’t hang paint-by-numbers in the Louvre.
    
37. The devil is predictable. He uses the same plays over and over again: distraction, doubt, division, and discouragement. Despite his lack of creativity, he is incredibly effective, and this explains a lot about the current state of our world.
    
38. I don’t think it’s fair that kale is good for you, but Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups taste WAY better.
    
39. Sometimes we get so caught up chasing the next moment that we forget to savor the one we’re in.
    
40. Sometimes we miss the answer to our prayers because we’re looking for it in the wrong place.
    
41. Sometimes your heart has reasons for doing things that take a while for your head to understand.
    
42. Embrace your weird. When we surrender our weird, we are imprisoning ourselves and handing over the key.
    
43. We need each other. Even Einstein wasn’t an Einstein at everything.
    
44. It’s worth remembering that even on the darkest, cloudiest days, the sun doesn’t disappear. It’s still there; it’s just hidden.
    
45. God is creative and He sends creative solutions.
    
46. Don’t be afraid to get your princess dress wet.
    
47. If you’re alive, make sure you’re living.
    
48. Life is like silly putty. Somehow.

🤔 I wonder…which of these most resonated with you?

Have you ever made your own frozen custard with milk you got from your own cows?

Have you ever made cider from apples you picked from the orchard in your backyard?

Have you ever been so self-sustaining that you only need to go to the grocery store once a month?

Have you ever built your home from scratch with your own hands?

I haven’t.

But I have friends who do all this and more. They are not Amish, and they are not “preppers,” but the life they live is more reminiscent of Little House on the Prairie than Modern Family.

They fascinate me. And the more I hear about their life, the more my heart sings. And this confounds me. Because normally feelings like these lead to one of two things: Either a desire to have what they have or the realization that I have identified a kindred spirit. We are the same!

Except in this case, I don’t have cows. I have no interest in waking up at the butt crack of dawn every morning to milk them. We might plant a few fruit trees this year, but nothing resembling an orchard. I enjoy getting my groceries delivered every week. I am not capable of building a shed, let alone a whole house. (I swell with pride when I install a shelf.)

Although I respect the heck out of their life, I have no desire for it to be mine. And it doesn’t appear that we have anything in common because my life is nothing like theirs…

Oh wait, yes it is.

There is one big thing we share: We are living life by our own rules. We are not abiding by the paint-by-numbers approach.

We have burned the paint-by-number to ashes.

Being a witness to a family who has such a blatant disregard for almost every single regular way of doing things is what makes my heart sing. That level of mindfulness—and disregard for the status quo—is rare.

I resonate with people who live life on their terms. Even if it looks completely different than mine. It energizes me and it fires me up because it gives me a sense of what’s possible when someone is mindful of the life they want to have. It expands my own horizons of what I see as possible, and I can’t help but wonder how much better the world would be, how much happier, less depressed, and angry and lost people would be if more of us refused to settle for the “regular” way.

There is a regular way of doing everything. Having babies. Schooling your children. Making money. Finding a job. Taking vacations. Planning a wedding. Worshipping God. Learning. Teaching. Retiring.

Interestingly, the regular way is different in different cultures. And the regular way is often a perfectly fine way for most people in most situations.

Heck, you can get pretty far in life without having to make any real decisions on your own. The regular path is there for you, starting with how you should think about what you should do after high school to what to have them read at your funeral.

The problem is that Adultitis sets in when we settle for the regular way more often than not.

Because we’re not all the same.

And the regular way is terrible as a one-size-fits-all solution.

If your soul feels stifled, if you feel the sad, heavy cloud of Adultitis reigning over you, maybe it’s because you’re settling in one or more areas of your life, having made choices that are perfectly fine for the majority of people…just not you.

Consider this a permission slip to skip the regular way and try a different road. You can always come back to the one you’re on later. (The well-trodden path is easy to find.)

Others have already made the decision you are considering but are hesitant to commit to. Find them. Borrow courage from them. Learn from them.

That’s why I love spending time with my cow-milking, custard-making friends.
They remind me that a life far from regular is the best kind there is.

(And the cider is delicious, too.)

🤔 I wonder…who is someone you’re inspired by who skipped the regular way of doing something?

Recently, my backyard was ground zero for a swarm of supposedly migrating dragonflies.

I say “supposedly” because they didn’t seem like they were doing anything remotely as organized as migrating. They zigged and zagged like a chaotic ballet of Red Bull-fueled teenagers at a rave pumping out music with a BPM of infinity.

Despite their numbers, they seemed more silly than menacing. It’s hard to fear something that appears so dumb and easily distracted.

I can’t help but compare them to geese, who are all business when it comes to migration. You can tell they’re going someplace important, like an arrangement of fighter jets making their way to the Super Bowl.

Dragonflies aren’t nearly as precise and organized.

I don’t know where they were going—it didn’t seem like they did, either—but I found myself hoping they got there. I assumed their journey was at least mildly arduous, but if their final destination was the next neighborhood over, well then, party on my friends.

While I sit here judging them and chuckling at their expense, I realize the joke is on me. After all, they are not completely unlike us humans.

How often do we resemble these seemingly dumb and easily distracted creatures?

How easily do we veer off track from our target, allowing the latest fad, news headline, or the dopamine lure of social media to pull us down rabbit holes?

How many times do we stall in making progress on anything meaningful as we flit from one high to another, looking for easy wins and getting drunk on instant gratifications?

Oof.

And what does it cost us?

In the wise words of philosopher Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast, and if you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Life does move pretty fast. Everything I’ve done in my career and everything Escape Adulthood stands for is about keeping you from missing it.

Meanwhile, the number one goal of Adultitis is to run out the clock on you. Not with boredom, which Adultitis has conditioned us to fear, but by distracting you with stupid games and shiny objects so that your anxiety stays high, your memorable moments are minimized, and your impact is nonexistent.

We admire those with clear goals who navigate life’s distractions. And yet, the urge to flutter aimlessly is powerful.

If you ever feel more like a migrating dragonfly than you’d like, here are some habits that have worked wonders for me:

1. Taking a weekly Sabbath provides a respite from the treadmill of life, providing a much-needed time-out to get my bearings and refill my cup. It’s always low-key, void of commitments, and a light at the end of the tunnel in a busy week. If our family skips one, the whole next week feels like dragonfly migration season.
   
2. An hour of quiet in my Prayer Chair every morning before the world revs up gives me the peace and calm I need to touch base with my true priorities, grounding me before entering the frenzy of daily life. It’s like a mini Sabbath, but every day.
   
3. Struggling to discern my Most Important Thing in the day ahead keeps me from the trap of being busy whilst accomplishing bupkis. Emphasis on struggle, as I have to resist the temptation to dub seven things the Most Important Thing.
   
4. Finally, naming my Happiest Moment from the day before helps me to appreciate gifts I’d otherwise miss racing along this whitewater rapid known as life. Spoiler: my Happiest Moments rarely include completing something on my to-do list. 

These are hard-earned habits; I possessed not one of them twenty years ago. But they keep me on track, far less dumb and far less easily distracted than I’d otherwise be.

Perhaps choosing to focus on one of them over the next few weeks will give you a greater calm and steady sense of direction.

The migrating dragonflies are fun to watch, but they prompt us to ponder a crucial question: Are we zigzagging aimlessly, or are we honing in on what truly matters?

The skies are vast and the possibilities are endless, but life is fleeting. 

Choose your flight path wisely.

🤔 I wonder…what is one of your hard-earned habits that helps you stay on course?

“Inflation is real. And I’m broke.”

This was shared with me by a woman in an organization for which I was preparing to speak. Although many people have struggled to keep up with the rising cost of goods, she wasn’t referring to money.

Over the past few years, some of the most important jobs in our society have grown more emotionally expensive, thanks to the pandemic and other factors. They are harder to do and there are fewer people willing to do them, yet we need them more than ever.

Let’s consider nurses as one example. They are carrying unsustainable patient loads and burning out in the process. If one quits to save herself, what happens to the ones left behind

But is she expected to sacrifice her own health, sanity, and relationships for the sake of everyone else? And exactly how useful is a burned-out, mistake-prone nurse with compassion fatigue?

You could replace “nurse” with “teacher” or “social worker” or “airline pilot” or “police officer,” and on and on…

Inflation is real.

And with emotional costs rising, many people are finding themselves broke.

So what do we do?

Well, it depends.

Self-help gurus promise easy answers because they are easy to sell. Unfortunately, complicated scenarios rarely have simple solutions. Each industry—each individual—has its own unique factors and challenges.

A problem like this requires thoughtfulness and self-awareness. I must fight the temptation to boil it down to a one-size-fits-all answer that saves the day in one fell swoop. Instead, let me share some truths that may shed light on what makes sense for your situation.

Truth #1: Life is hard. And that is normal. 
We are consistently lured into pursuing a life of ease and comfort, conditioned to believe that something’s wrong if we experience anything otherwise. We humans put too much stock in what’s happening right this moment, falsely assuming the good times will always roll or this hard stretch will last forever. This is called recency bias. But it’s always been true that to everything there is a season. It could be that you are in a season of challenge that is extremely difficult, but also temporary. If so, take courage! Persist! Facing down difficulties will make you better, stronger, and believe it or not, happier in the long run.

Truth #2: It’s not your job to save the world.
This is a hard one to swallow, especially if you’re like me and suffer from a bit of a savior complex. First of all, it feels good to help others. And wanting to help as many people as possible provides a sense of purpose, which is also good. Things go sideways if we develop an outsized expectation of the role we’re called to play. Yes, there may be few people who can do what you do as well as you can, but the fact is you could get hit by a bus tomorrow, and believe it or not, the world will find a way to go on. (Why always a bus? Why not a VW Beetle packed with clowns? Or a Door Dash driver on a unicycle? But I digress.) Perhaps you just need to shift your perspective, take yourself a little less seriously, and give yourself permission to do the best you can and the grace to acknowledge it’ll never be enough. Why? Because it’s not your job to save the world.

Truth #3: It’s hard to help people when you’re dead.
Speaking of getting hit by a VW Beetle packed with clowns, bad things happen when you push yourself to the brink. You need time to rest and fill your cup. If you keep your foot on the gas, eventually your body will hit the brakes for you. To restate the obvious, it’s awfully hard to help others when you’re laid up in a hospital bed, or, you know, dead.

Truth #4: It’s not all or nothing.
When we feel overwhelmed and depleted, we commonly default to extremes. Your options are not limited to “quit this job immediately” or “stick with it forever until it kills me.” You could also give it another month, pray, re-evaluate things, and then decide to quit, stay, or…give it another month. You don’t have to resign yourself to your current situation, either. Maybe you can go half time. Maybe you can transfer to a different department. Maybe you just need a little vacation. (Or a long one!) Perhaps your first priority should be to give yourself a little space to identify all your options because there are probably more than you realize.

So…if you find yourself having a hard time keeping up with the rising emotional costs of your particular situation, what should you do?

I don’t know.

But I expect that you might, especially if you felt one or two of these truths ping your soul.

Thank you for caring. Thank you for your hard work. Thank you for making a difference.

I wish you clarity and peace of mind as you discern what’s next.

And the agility to avoid any clown-stuffed vehicles that cross your path.

Have you ever experienced a time when the battery on your phone was dead? I mean stone-cold dead. Not only would it not turn on, but it was so depleted that even after you plugged it in, you still couldn’t use it for several minutes, despite the fact it was directly connected to a power source.

Life is like that sometimes.

Kim and I recently took an anniversary trip to Mackinac Island in Michigan. I bought a new journal, expecting to have a bunch of time to fill it with brilliant brainstorms and insights. Alas, when we made the return trip on the ferry, only four pages were filled.

And trust me, they contained very little insight.

When I did have quiet time, I spent most of it in a near-comatose state, just staring at the water and listening to the clip-clop of the horses marching up and down the street. We also took in the beauty of the island and the charming homes. I savored every bite of the wonderful meals we enjoyed and loved breathing in the fresh air as we pedaled the 8.2 miles around the island on rented bicycles. It was an amazing opportunity to just be.

But as far as exciting new ideas? Flatline.

I was like a dead phone, needing to be plugged into a power source for a bit, doing nothing before I could have any chance of experiencing any “productivity.”

The difference between me now and me 10 or 15 years ago is that I was OK with it. As I’ve gotten older, and presumably more wiser, I’ve become more in tune with what my body, mind, and soul need. I am less likely to let my hopes and expectations drive the car because I have enough experience with those expectations driving me right off a cliff.

It didn’t surprise me that on the drive home, new ideas began to bubble up and Kim and I had some pretty enlightened discussions about our future after my battery had been recharged.

Vacations are a great opportunity to explore new environments and experience new activities. And there is extreme value in taking a break from our routine. But it shouldn’t be more of the same striving and busyness of our normal life, merely shifting to a new location. We should be mindful of setting aside time in every vacation for slowing down. Heck, make that every day.

Our culture doesn’t value stopping. We are uncomfortable with silence. We are conditioned to go, go, go, and do, do, do. And because of that, our body is forced to revolt, shutting us down with a sickness, injury, or other malady. Sometimes the universe conspires to slow us down with some other upheaval to our status quo.

If this is where you find yourself right now, accept it as the gift it is.

When we are in a harried state, we are inclined to sense that something is wrong and double down our brain power to search for answers. But the output that comes from a cluttered mind often only makes our situation worse.

As Alan Watts wrote in The Way of Zen: “As muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone, it could be argued that those who sit quietly and do nothing are making one of the best possible contributions to a world in turmoil.”

That world in turmoil might be our own.

We all want more clarity, more peace, and more success. The secret to getting those things isn’t with more, but less. Instead of hustling more, thinking harder, or working longer, we need less noise, less activity, and fewer thoughts.

I had certain expectations of what I wanted out of our vacation to Mackinac Island.

Fortunately, I got exactly what I needed.

Sometimes what we need most is to do nothing but plug into a higher power and just…be.

We’ve planned and hosted a wedding almost every year for the past eleven years.

We just happen to call them Escape Adulthood Summits.

Sending out invitations. Finding a venue. Decorating said venue to create a magical vibe. Booking entertainment. Organizing not one, but at least three meals. Creating swag bags. And planning two days’ worth of inspiring, entertaining, and hopefully life-changing content.

We’ve never had elaborate tiered cakes, but we have had whoopie pies, s’mores, and an ice cream truck. We’ve loved putting them on. Especially the end result that comes from it.

But it’s a lot.

This year, we knew that we didn’t quite have the stamina to host an Escape Adulthood Summit the way we’ve done it in the past. Instead of giving up on the idea of a live event altogether, we asked an important question:

What would this look like if it were easy?

This is a question author Tim Ferriss asked himself when he turned 40 and experienced what he considered a “partial mid-life crisis.”

It’s a simple question that offers a powerful, potentially life-changing reframe.

As we go through life, we tend to add complexity. We add more responsibilities at work. We accumulate more possessions that need to be maintained. We welcome new people into our lives. (Hi, kids!) As organizations grow and mature, they add more policies, revenue streams, and levels of management. And don’t get me started on the government!

It’s easy to make life more complicated. (Being overly generous with our “yeses” can do the trick in short order!) But complexity is also a natural part of gaining mastery and creating productive, dependable systems. 

Eventually, however, getting to the next level is not about adding more, but stripping things away.
We gave ourselves the space to ask ourselves what a live event would look like if it were easy. What parts of hosting a Summit did we enjoy the most? Which parts brought the biggest headaches?

That led us to the idea of hosting a “Family Reunion” in our backyard this September for our Wonder & Whimsy Society members. We eliminated the costs of a venue and travel for our team. We simplified the agenda and meal planning. This pivot allows us to prepare content for people who were already familiar with our work. And we’ve spent way less time and money on promotion because there’s a smaller group to market to.

Most importantly, we’re re-energized and really looking forward to it. 

With an all-or-nothing mindset, our overwhelm can tempt us to quit something altogether when perhaps a more measured approach would be prudent. It’s wise to avoid quitting something because it’s gotten too complicated if we haven’t at least tried to simplify it first.

Sometimes the over-complication is a result of over-planning. Maybe because we are afraid of failure, or maybe — as was the case with the Summit — it’s because we know people have invested a lot of time and money to be there and we want to reward them with a magical experience.

Either way, if you feel perpetually stressed out, overwhelmed, and harried, you might be inadvertently making things more difficult than they need to be. 

It can be helpful to step back and ask yourself, “What if it were easy?”

What if you eliminated a few steps of the process that were important at one time but are no longer necessary or useful?

What if you figured out a way to delegate or outsource a time-consuming task to someone else who has more time or experience?

What if you shared your situation with a coach or trusted advisor who might provide fresh insight as a person from the outside looking in?

What if you just — gasp! — stopped doing something altogether? Oftentimes, the simplest solution is the best, such as a firm but compassionate “no.”

Life is hard enough as it is. Sometimes we make it harder by overcomplicating our situation, taking on more than we need to, or trying to solve problems that are not ours to solve. 

What would it look like if it were easy?

They don’t make Super Bowl rings like they used to.

A recent speaking engagement in Ohio provided me the opportunity to take my son Ben along for a side trip to Canton, home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. One of the standout displays was its collection of Super Bowl rings.

You can see and compare every ring, from the first commemorating the Green Bay Packers’ victory in Super Bowl I, to the one awarded to the LA Rams for winning Super Bowl LVI. 

The recent versions look less like rings and more like diamond-encrusted paperweights.

The Super Bowl LVI ring is shaped like the stadium, with removable(!) elements that reveal intricate details like the roof, the Infinity Screen, and the field, which is colored with remnants of the actual turf where the game was played. Each ring includes about 20 carats of white diamonds in total, the most of any sports championship ring in history.

Meanwhile, that first Super Bowl ring, designed by Vince Lombardi in 1966, was a one-carat diamond set in white gold.

It was striking to see so many life lessons crammed into one compact display.

For one, I think it’s safe to say the NFL is doing very well, especially compared to the humble founding days when owners were required to pay a $100 league entry fee. But while some might see an opportunity for a sermon on greed or the ills of capitalism, I choose to see it as an invitation to consider the progress we’ve made in our own lives. Some of my dreams are still a far way off, but I am grateful when I think about how far Kim and I have come from the early days of our marriage, with our air-conditionless apartment and a steady diet of Hamburger Helper.

Of course, it is true that each Super Bowl ring was bigger and more valuable than the one that proceeded it. Apparently, we human beings just can’t keep from comparing ourselves to others and trying to one-up each other. 

Also, it’s clear we have a thing for chasing shiny objects. Sometimes they look like rings and trophies. Other times they look like homes, cars, job titles, and reserved parking spots. The fact that sometimes those Super Bowl rings get pawned reminds me that those shiny objects don’t lead to lasting happiness or solve all our problems.

It was an interesting display, but also a sad commentary on how out of whack our priorities are. If you follow the pattern, there’s a good chance that by 2050, players will be parking their Super Bowl “rings” in their garage.

I am not optimistic that our culture will change much by then.

But maybe we can.

We can change for the better if we spend more time being grateful forhow far we’ve come and take a few moments to ask some honest questions. 

Does what I’m currently chasing after hold true value, or is it merely a “shiny object” I can’t take with me?

Am I more focused on beating someone else, or besting the person I was yesterday?

In our fast-paced culture, it’s uncommon for someone to step off the treadmill long enough to ask hard questions like these.

But then again, that’s what makes real champions.

My family watched The Goonies recently. I’ve probably seen it a dozen times, as it was a favorite from my childhood. 

If you haven’t seen it, Wikipedia offers this summary:

“The Goonies is a 1985 American adventure comedy film co-produced and directed by Richard Donner from a screenplay by Chris Columbus, and based on a story by Steven Spielberg. In the film, a group of kids who live in the ‘Goon Docks’ neighborhood of Astoria, Oregon, attempt to save their homes from foreclosure and, in doing so, they discover an old treasure map that takes them on an adventure to unearth the long-lost fortune of One-Eyed Willy, a legendary 17th-century pirate. During the adventure, they are chased by a family of criminals who want the treasure for themselves.”

To put it simply, it’s just fun. 

Watching it again now, as an adult, I marvel at how Spielberg had a knack for knowing what kids love. For instance, early in the movie, we see an elaborate Rube Goldberg-type contraption the kids built incorporating a bowling ball, a sprinkler, and a chicken laying an egg. It served the sole purpose of opening the front gate for visitors. I don’t think the plot would have fallen apart without that scene; all I know is that I loved it as a kid. 

And I suspect Spielberg knew I would.  

And that’s just one example. The movie has pirates and treasures and a pretty girl. A monster. A cool kid who is able to flummox authority with his mouth. There’s a mysterious riddle-filled treasure map, and of course, danger and adventure. 

Epic.

I wanted to be a Goonie when I grew up. I bet you did, too, if you saw the movie as a child. (Or would have if you didn’t.)

So…how are we doing?

For example, Goonies never say die. How often do we give up at the first sign of resistance? Or decide not to begin at all because we deem it “impractical” or don’t want to look foolish if we fail?

Is our life filled with adventure, or is it always the same; one slow, predictable workweek at a time?

Does it have a measure of danger, or are we striving instead for comfort and ease?

How quick are we to abandon the mystery of a treasure map for the certainty of turn-by-turn directions?

Are we searching for real treasure, or are we chasing shiny objects and settling for the wrong things?

When we encounter a “monster” who is different from us, do we judge them quickly and write them off before we’ve had the chance to encounter a real friend hidden within?

Finally, back to the gate opening contraption in the movie’s first act. Machines like that are wildly inefficient in their assigned objective, but exceptionally proficient at delivering delight and wonder. It’s really a metaphor for anything that adds fun and whimsy to life.  Are we too focused on trying to make everything in our purview as efficient as possible, removing all the fun in the process?

With Goonies, Spielberg made a movie he knew kids would love, one in which the kids are heroes and the adults are either villains or clueless.

But maybe he also made it for adults, to stir that long-lost child within us, to remind us that we once saw life as a great adventure and that it can be again.

When we were kids, we were all Goonies.

Adultitis may have the upper hand in your life right now, but Goonies never say die.

How many Froot Loops can you stack on top of one another before they topple over?

How tall would someone’s tower have to be for you to find yourself impressed?

We often relish the opportunity to declare how many activities we’re balancing. Like a status symbol, our busyness signals our importance. We could pretend the pink ones are work responsibilities, the yellow ones are family and household chores, maybe the orange ones are volunteer commitments, and the green ones are hobbies…All hail the one with the highest stack of Froot Loops! 

I am always in awe of people who seem to be able to operate smoothly amidst a schedule bursting at the seams. My personality type is such that I easily get overwhelmed when I’m trying to stack more than a handful of Froot Loops at a time.

I recently added something new to my morning prayer routine. After looking back on the previous day and reflecting on what went well and what I could have done better, I try to identify the most important thing to accomplish in the day ahead. 

And let me tell you, it’s bloody hard.

I mean, it’s a simple question. And sometimes it’s easy because there’s a specific, obvious task that needs to be completed: Deliver this speech. Finish the manuscript for editing. Paint the ceiling. 

But most days, it’s not so obvious. 

Answering this question goes against my inherent desire to cram my day like a Volkswagon Beetle stuffed with seventy-six circus clowns. When I survey the day before me, I usually see a smorgasbord of Very Important Things, all seemingly equal in significance. If I happen to settle on something like “spend time in the studio,” I have to fight the urge to also write “andfinishthisandworkonthatanddontforgettotakeoutthegarbage.”

I’m not alone, am I?

The science is clear. We get a tiny yet thrilling dopamine hit every time we check something off our almighty to-do list – regardless of how essential the chore actually was – which encourages us to rush headlong into the abyss of productivity.

I have to remind myself that the question “What is today’s most important thing?” is not asking for the ONLY thing I need to do that day. Or asking me to only do ONE good or worthwhile thing all day. 

It’s merely asking me to declare the most important one.

Because, unfortunately, despite my desire to bend reality and make my home in the multiverse, there can only be one most important thing. (See this reflection on how we magically changed the meaning of the word “priority.”)

I have found that oftentimes in this process, my most important thing is to “be open,” because the most important thing hasn’t yet revealed itself at six-thirty in the morning. But that awareness is vital because it makes me more likely to notice it when it comes. 

I encourage you to try this, especially if you’re having a hard time balancing all the Froot Loops. Its power comes in forcing you to pause, nudging you to slow down, reflect, and be intentional.

Why does this matter? 

This matters because when I don’t identify the most important thing for the day, I’m liable to rush off and accomplish a whole hell of a lot of things. Which seems good and feels great. But if the sheer volume of activity crowds out what was actually the most important thing I needed to do, my life slowly veers off track.

It doesn’t matter how many Froot Loops you can balance if you were supposed to be paying attention to the Cheerio.

We were at the dinner table, eating spaghetti and meatballs. As I raised my fork, I paused and made a declaration.

“We need some Vitamin Sea. Let’s go to Florida.”

No convincing was needed. Everyone dropped their silverware and pushed themselves back from the table. We hastily packed a few bags and loaded into the car, leaving our dirty dishes behind. We were off!

Ok…that’s not exactly how it went when Kim and I decided our family needed a break and chose Destin as our destination. Spaghetti wasn’t involved, there were about two weeks between the decision and the departure, and we left our home pretty tidy.

The first version of the story may be more dramatic, but we would have missed the best part.

The anticipation.

The anticipation of a positive experience is at least as valuable and enjoyable as the experience itself.

Our January was dominated by the decline in health and the death of Kim’s father. It was an exhausting ride filled with uncertainty and big emotions. We originally planned to shelve our annual winter tradition of heading south for some sun, but after the month we’d had, we needed a reset. We needed to process the cyclone we’d just experienced. We needed to heal.

And let me tell you, those two weeks of anticipation were just as valuable as the week we were actually gone.

We made the decision before the wake and the funeral, so the upcoming trip served as a light at the end of the tunnel as we pushed through the home stretch of emotional turmoil and family obligations. Imagining the rhythmic waves of the ocean, the soft sand on our toes, and the chance to frolic in the heated outdoor pool fueled us and kept us moving forward, one day at a time.

I’ve written before about how anticipation is the electricity of childhood, and a power source we adults don’t plug into nearly enough.

Those two weeks of waiting cost exactly zero dollars, effectively making them free happiness. That’s what anticipation does. It makes you happy as you live good moments in advance, through your imagination. It fills you with a sense of hope and extra excitement, making it easier to navigate the valleys in your day-to-day.

That’s the reason for my theory that you should always have a vacation on your calendar to look forward to.

But I’m not alone in this thinking. “Imagining good things ahead of us makes us feel better in the current moment,” says Simon A. Rego, the chief psychologist at Montefiore Medical Center and Albert Einstein College of Medicine, who has written extensively on the effect of anticipation on mood. “It can increase motivation, optimism, and patience and decrease irritability.”

Neuropsychologist Dr. Sanam Hafeez says, “Anticipation can be the key driving force in motivating yourself to get through life as you look forward to something that gives you a sense of optimism toward the future. If you’re having difficulty dealing with the past or present, anticipating what’s next can help get you through it.”

“The suspense is terrible, I hope it will last.”

–Willy Wonka

As we drove back home after our week was over, grateful for the good memories and the chance to get away, we started imagining our next adventure. Kim and I spent several hours dreaming about the year ahead, filling our calendar with experiences to look forward to. 

What about you? Is your next vacation already on the books?

Of course, you don’t need a full-on vacation or a ton of money to take advantage of the power of anticipation.

Our family Sabbath delivers that on a regular basis. As business owners and homeschoolers with three kids, our weeks are fuller than a house occupied by Bob Saget, John Stamos, and Dave Coulier. But we manage to carve out one day a week with nothing but whitespace. It keeps us going because we know there’s a place to land and fill our cups after all this activity.

In addition, most weeks Kim and I have a date night, which serves as another little bright spot to look forward to, besides, you know, actually strengthening our marriage.

Since moving to Sheboygan, we take off Fridays during the summer, designating them as “beach days.” After a few lazy hours spent on the edge of Lake Michigan, we return home, order pizza, and watch a movie. We all look forward to those days.

What small things could you plug into your calendar that will give you something to look forward to? Perhaps a get-together with a friend you haven’t seen in a while. A surprise birthday party. A celebratory meal out. A day trip to a state park. Heck, our beloved Celebrate Everything calendar even gives you permission to make up your own holiday if you need to.

Remember, anticipation is free happiness. 

Want an easy way to keep Adultitis at bay? 

Always have a vacation on your calendar and something to look forward to next week. 

I’m not sure where middle age begins, but I’m pretty sure that even grading on the most generous curve, I’m in it. 

In some ways, maybe we all are.

With Kim’s father in hospice the past week, and with his only brother in hospice for three weeks before that, I’ve naturally been thinking a lot about life and death. 

And last times.

Gary and his wife Joyce are experiencing a lot of last times right now. And reflecting on the ones they didn’t realize were the last when they happened.

I wonder, is middle age the point of life when you start collecting more last times than first times? 

Because the early chapters of our lives are bursting with firsts. First steps. First words. First day of school. First Communion. First date. First kiss. First beer. First job. First child. Of course, there are lasts sprinkled in as well, but they are not as many and not as melancholy.

Eventually, life shifts and the last times pick up steam: The last family vacation. The last child leaves the nest. Last day of work. Last anniversary celebration. Last Christmas. Last dance. Last kiss. One last goodbye.

While driving the other day, I was thinking about Gary and his last days while listening to a song by Ed Sheeran called “First Times.” 

Ain’t it funny how the simplest things in life can make a man?
Little moments that pass us by
Oh, but I remember
The first kiss, the first night, the first song that made you cry
The first drink, red wine, on a step in Brooklyn
And I can’t wait to make a million more first times

I may or may not have been crying when I thought back on all the awesome first times in my life, and realized that many (most?) of my first times are behind me, while the last times are piling up like gremlins in a monsoon. (My jacked-up knee assures me that I’ve definitely ice skated for the last time.)

In the early part of our lives, the first times are so abundant we hardly have to make an effort. But as you age, they become less automatic. And when you’re on your deathbed, those last times suddenly explode in number.

The challenge is that the older we get, the less risk-averse we typically become. The more comfortable we are with the status quo. We settle down, sticking to the same foods, the same music, the same television shows, the same hairstyle, the same clothes, the same conversations, and the same routines that eventually devolve into ruts. At some point, the first times dry up and the last times begin to multiply.

It doesn’t have to be that way, of course. But it does require we be intentional about maintaining a spirit of curiosity and adventure.

I felt hopeful when I realized that the middle part – which takes up more space than we realize – is where the magic happens. 

I can’t control how many days left I have on this spinning blue ball, but I don’t have to give up on collecting first times. There are new foods to try, new places to visit, new people to meet, new hobbies to begin, new art supplies to experiment with, and new adventures to be embarked upon. 

My future – and yours – has no shortage of first times available, the only question is whether or not we will pursue them. The choice is ours.

The last times are coming for all of us. But as I wonder, How many first times do I have left?

The answer is, As many as I can make.

I’m the type of person who saves the cherry on his sundae for the end. 

I’ve always been able to save the best for last. The best bite, the biggest present, the activity I’m looking forward to most. My youngest daughter is like me in this regard. My wife, not so much.

Unfortunately, sometimes I’m so good at saving the best for last that I accidentally save the best for never.

Last weekend, I sat on the swing at the edge of our backyard and had a staring contest with Lake Michigan. I read a book and sipped hot apple cider and let the sun warm me before Old Man Winter starts running the show. It was bliss. 

I was reminded of touring the property for the first time and encountering a swing the previous owners had in the same spot. Theirs was dilapidated, its bones brittle and covered in moss and barely strong enough to hold a person. But it was enough for me to cast a vision of myself spending hours and hours in that spot, sketching, writing, dreaming, and sipping hot cider. 

My last time was over four months ago, before the storm in June. The morning after it destroyed our backyard by uprooting 150 trees,  I surveyed the damage. It appeared that the swing had been blown off its perch into the mighty lake, which would have been a real kick to the pinecones. Fortunately, it was merely buried under pine trees, broken but fixable, thanks to a few new support bars and the know-how of my father.

Since then, between professional loggers making a clean slate, dump trucks depositing fifty-three loads of topsoil, and a period of time when we waited for grass seed to sprout, the swing was inaccessible. But there were several weeks before this one when I could have enjoyed the swing and its special brand of medicine. And even before the storm, I didn’t spend as much time as I thought I would when we were in the process of buying this house.

I pause to wonder why.

Obviously, some of it could be chalked up to the reality and speed of life, in which there are bills to pay, obligations to fulfill, and dinners to prepare. And it’s probably a little like buying a new piece of exercise equipment expecting it will usher in an unstoppable string of daily workouts, only to end up as an overpriced clothes rack. In other words, unrealistic expectations.

Maybe a little. 

But deep down, I know it’s not just that.

First, there’s the romantic side of me that does not want its specialness to become stale. And so I withhold it from myself. For special occasions, which, as it turns out, seem to be few and far between. 

Secondly, I sometimes feel unworthy of this property, and as such, unworthy to take full advantage of its gifts. I convince myself that I must earn them, and so I meter them out like Ebeneezer Scrooge, treating swing time as a reward for getting the work done. 

Which would be fine except for the annoying coincidence that the work is never done. And so days and weeks and seasons go by without ever savoring the gift as if I will have centuries to enjoy this place, even though my graying hair and achy joints speak to the contrary. 

Perhaps you’re a better person than I am. Maybe you already do a good job of not just counting your blessings, but savoring them as well. Maybe you don’t waste good years waiting for this or that to be finished before you can finally slow down and spend time on the pursuits and with the people that matter. 

Maybe you, unlike me, really do have another hundred years to live. 

If so, I applaud you.

If not, well, maybe this is a good reminder to eat the cherry.

May the force be with you. Especially if that force is the power of compound interest.

Even a small amount of money, if earning interest and given enough time, will eventually become a mighty sum. It’s a much better play than burying money in a metal can under a maple tree. The hard part is getting started because it takes a while to notice any momentum and it’s more gratifying to spend those dollars on something you can enjoy NOW.

Only recently have I realized the power of compound interest extends beyond the financial realm.

When I was in my twenties, I regretted not being able to put money into the market. I knew that the sooner you started, the more powerful the result of compound interest. But any extra dollars we had went back into our little business – and funded our primary diet of ramen noodles and Hamburger Helper.

Instead of investing in other people’s businesses through the stock market, we invested in our own instead. It was a riskier play, but it did offer more control. Alas, we did lose money the first several years. Earning a hundred dollars felt like moving a Mack truck out of a mud hole by hand back then, but we persisted.

Making a living and buying a lake house was always the dream, but back then it seemed downright preposterous when something like needing new brakes on our ancient jalopy felt like a death blow.

I’m typing this now from my dream studio in my dream home, overlooking the Great Lake known as Michigan. It didn’t materialize from money made in the stock market, but compound interest definitely played a part.

Before we made it here, Kim and I spent twenty years putting good into the world. We persisted when common sense indicated otherwise. Day by day, week by week, month by month, we slowly built up our network, learned new skills, developed tiny habits, and earned goodwill from a steadily growing tribe of Adultitis Fighters. 

I was surprised as anyone when we were able to buy our dream house in the middle of a pandemic that, when it started, threatened to be a death knell to our business. When the shock wore off (let’s be honest, it hasn’t fully yet), I realized how it happened:

Compound interest.

Everything we’d been doing for twenty years — and the lessons we learned — added up and turned into a snowball with real momentum. It’s what carried us through the pandemic, landed us this lake home, and helped us weather the straight-line wind that took out 150 trees and destroyed our backyard this summer. 

Sadly, I personally know people who are no further along in life than they were twenty years ago, financially or otherwise. It’s not because they aren’t intelligent or that they were unlucky. It’s because they didn’t stick to anything long enough. When things got hard, they bailed. When someone wronged them, they retaliated and burned a bridge. When something didn’t show results fast enough, they packed up and moved on to the next thing.

It’s true that if you put five dollars into the stock market every day for twenty years, your life will be transformed.

But that’s not the only way to take advantage of compound interest.

If you tell one person a day about that thing you made and have for sale, your life will be transformed.

If you walked for twenty minutes a day for twenty years, your life will be transformed.

If you write a thank you note every day for twenty years, your life will be transformed.

If you read a new book every week for twenty years, your life will be transformed.

If you do a random act of kindness every day for twenty years, your life will be transformed.

A few years ago, we finally started making enough money to actually invest some of it in the stock market. I expect in another twenty years it will serve us well. But I won’t have to wait until then to understand and appreciate the effects of compound interest.

Wherever you are on your journey, carry on. Pivot if you must, but persist.

Take advantage of compound interest.

Over time, even the tiniest steps add up.

Sometimes you’ll see a message at the beginning of a movie letting you know it was “based on true events.” There’s something dramatic about it because it’s exhilarating to watch an amazing story that wasn’t just imagined, but really happened.

At least part of it.

You see, I’m always skeptical of that claim because I feel they’re being intentionally vague. It makes me wonder, what parts are the true parts? How much of it is factual? Half? Thirty-three percent? One percent?

Did they leave out important details? Or exaggerate stuff for the sake of a better story? Did they shorten the timeline and turn the long, hard slog into a snappy, inspiring montage with an Ed Sheeran song playing underneath?

After the movie is over, a quick review of Wikipedia often reveals a different story than the one that makes a good motion picture. Like a good fishing story, certain parts may have been embellished for dramatic effect.

Sometimes we try and fashion our own lives based on true events. And that can be a trap.

Yes, that musician we admire got a record deal and is now touring the country to sold out arenas. But we didn’t see the seven years she spent sleeping in her car and couch surfing at friends’ places while she toured the state, playing to crowds of tens.

If we see someone who is successful, and try and model our lives after theirs, doesn’t that make our lives based on true events? Because indeed, we never see the full story. Maybe we only get half of it. Maybe we only get one percent.

We don’t see the sacrifices put in. The long nights crying into a pillow. The demons they had to fight through. We don’t see the boring parts where nothing seems to be happening and a breakthrough feels like it’ll never come.

That’s my story. I had many role models as I pursued my dream; all of whom seemed to achieve their dreams way more easily, quickly, and dramatically than I did. Kim and I spent nearly a decade living in a crappy apartment, drowning in debt, doing everything we could to keep our hope from blowing out, and wondering what we were doing wrong.

Good times.

Now we live in a beautiful house overlooking Lake Michigan and make a living doing what I love. People who are entering my story now – especially the new people we’ve encountered since moving to Sheboygan eighteen months ago – don’t see the whole picture. I’m sure many just see one big “must be nice,” oblivious to the twenty years it took to get here.

By all means, take inspiration where you can get it, but never forget the inspiring stories you are privy to are based on true events. 

Don’t be discouraged if your story feels more difficult than your hero’s, or is taking longer than you think it should to get to the happy ending. Keep going through the hard slog. Keep taking it one day at a time. The best dreams take a while and are achieved in the moments never seen by the camera.

And remember that when they make a movie of your life, they’ll probably gloss over this part with an upbeat Ed Sheeran song.

Is it weird that I don’t remember my first kiss?

That’s weird, right?

Another fun fact is that my first few kisses were instigated by the girl, not me. And that’s not because I had so many of them chasing me; it’s because I was waiting for the timing to be perfect.

Was I waiting for a red, Jamaican-accented crab holding a big neon sign blinking, “Kiss the girl!”? 

No, of course not. That’s ridiculous.

I was waiting for the billboard after that to assure me that the first sign was the sign I was waiting for.

Truthfully, I was afraid. I was lost in questions: Is this the one? How can I tell if she wants me to kiss her? How am I supposed to do this, anyway? How is my breath? What if I do it wrong? Will she laugh at me? Will she tell all her friends? Will I die alone, single and unloved? Yep, I’m totally going to die alone, single and unloved.

While I was swimming in the fog of self-doubt and existential dread, I guess the girl got tired of me missing the neon sign, the billboard, AND the marching band and leaned in and went for it. And then, caught off guard, I may or may not have blacked out, which might explain why although there are a few contenders, I can’t remember which one was technically my first kiss.

As you can see, I can be a bit of an over-thinker, lost in the weeds as I wait for the timing to be right. Fortunately, as I’ve gotten older, I have also gotten better at making the first move and worrying less about perfect timing.

I’ve learned that it’s a fool’s game trying to determine the right time to do anything.

When is the right time to kiss the girl?
When is the right time to start a family?
When is the right time to go back to school?
When is the right time to start that business?
When is the right time to sell that stock?
When is the right time to retire?
When is the right time to take that leap your heart is begging for?

I don’t know.  No one does.

Perfect timing is only obvious in retrospect.

If you’re wondering about the right time to do the thing you’ve been mulling over, I do know this: it’s probably a lot closer to NOW than later.

I am a planner. I believe wisdom is important when making decisions. These are good things. But there is a certain wisdom in the adage that advises jumping off the cliff and building the parachute on the way down.

Because that’s what happens anyway.

In life and in business, there are no perfect plans. As noted philosopher Mike Tyson once proclaimed, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

But the good news is, as Marie Forleo reminds us, “Everything is figureoutable.”

Meanwhile, as we wait for the stars to align, we miss out on opportunities right in front of us.

One of my favorite things is getting to take one of my kids with me when I travel for a speaking engagement. We’ve made a point to make the first one with each child kind of epic. At a gig in San Diego, I took Lucy to the zoo and we got to see a cheetah run. Ben joined me on a trip to Orlando where we rented a convertible and visited Legoland.

Finally, it was my youngest’s turn. I secured tickets to the Magic Kingdom for me and Ginny after an organization booked me for their national conference in Orlando last December. The timing was perfect.

Then COVID.

The event switched to virtual and our epic trip was put on hold. It was excruciating telling her the trip was canceled after we’d spent so much time looking forward to it. Since the Disney tickets are transferrable, I’ve been waiting for another opportunity in the area to present itself. So far, nothing has. I didn’t want to “settle” on a “lesser” first trip with Ginny, but I recently decided to move beyond this self-imposed restriction. 

Our first trip together will now be, drumroll, please…

…Chattanooga, Tennessee! I know, exciting, right?! It may not be the sexiest destination, but I also know that for Ginny, it’s more about spending time with me than where we go. I also know that life offers no guarantees, and if I keep waiting, I may miss my chance to take her on a trip altogether. Or, less dramatically, we’ll end up taking far less of them than we could have. (Of course, the next gig anywhere near Orlando has her name on it, no questions asked.)

One of the best tricks Adultitis has at its disposal is convincing us to wait for the timing to be perfect. It’s a trap that allows us to hide, fear to win, and the clock to run out.

The clock runs out for all of us. The end is sooner than you think.

Most people wish they’d gotten started on that thing they now love earlier, not later.

Most people wish they’d had more kids, not less. 

Most people on their deathbed are more regretful about the things they didn’t do than the things they did.

You’re never “ready” enough. You never have enough saved up. You’re never cool enough, strong enough, smart enough, confident enough, worthy enough, or lovable enough. 

From your first kiss to your first business trip with your kid, the timing is never perfect.

Sometimes you have to quit overthinking it and just jump.

We’ve been bitten. By a spider.

It started when we went to see Spider-Man: No Way Home before Christmas. Which led us to watch the original Toby Maguire trilogy and we just finished Andrew Garfield’s two films. 

My family officially has Spider-Man fever.

No matter the film, I always love the dazzling acrobatic shots of Spidey swinging through the Manhattan landscape. But there’s one move I like that I don’t remember noticing before. Basically, he uses his webs to create a slingshot, and after pulling himself back, propels himself forward in order to quickly cover more ground than usual. It’s a pretty creative – and effective – move.

It got me thinking about how sometimes the best way forward is by taking a few steps back.

I know that we’re at the beginning of a new year, and we’re all supposed to be off to the races, re-energized, and chasing our shiny new goals with abandon. That may be all well and good for everyone else, but maybe that’s not what you need to be doing right now. Maybe this is the time you need to be taking a break. To embrace stillness. To lie fallow. 

When singer Lauren Daigle had broken through the barrier of anonymity and was in the midst of a meteoric rise up the charts, she admitted to being burned out from the non-stop touring. At the point when all the experts said she needed to put the pedal to the metal or risk losing all momentum, she told her agent she was taking a year-long break. Far from a death knell for her career, Lauren shared that the year of rest ended up being her best financially, and led to new creative breakthroughs.

In our driven culture, such a bold move goes against the common wisdom to keep on hustlin’. The desire for forward motion is constant. We don’t dare risk losing momentum, let alone consider stopping altogether. 

But sometimes we need to be a slingshot.

Indeed, sometimes going backward is the best way forward. A much-needed, well-timed retreat can lead to faster, more explosive progress than the diminishing return approach of keeping your head down and grinding it out day after day.

On a personal note, I came into the final few months of last year burned to a crisp, like a brittle slice of blackened toast. It was a good year, but a busy one, probably filled with too many yeses. I eagerly embraced a fallow period. Taking a time out, I cut my work schedule in half and spent more time walking, thinking, and hanging out with the kids. This deliberate step back has already resulted in more peace, better clarity, and the identification of new opportunities.

Different seasons call for different strategies. If your tank is full and you’re eagerly scaling the next skyscraper in your path, that’s great.

But if your Spidey senses are tingling and you suspect that you might be better served by a break in the action, that’s ok, too.

Be a slingshot.

She has an art degree. Two, in fact. The pottery she makes is beautiful. She has what it takes to make a solid living from her craft.

Instead, she tends bar and works part-time on the assembly line for a manufacturing company. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Jeff Civillico said in an interview on Escape Adulthood LIVE. He is an award-winning Las Vegas headliner, entertainer, speaker, and emcee. He told us that when he speaks to young people, one of the questions he gets asked the most is, “Who discovered you?”

After a brief pause, his answer is… “Me!”

And it’s true. If you listen to the interview (and I recommend you do), you’ll hear Jeff describe the lengths he went to in order to find success in one of the most difficult environments in show business. It is an inspiring tale of grit, persistence, and ingenuity.

Yes, he had help. He had partners. But he picked himself.

Jeff believes one of the downsides of the proliferation of shows like America’s Got Talent and The Voice is that kids growing up watching the shows expect that getting discovered is the ticket to success.

It’s not.

In reality, you aren’t “discovered.” There are no “big breaks.” At least they aren’t required.

There is no singular event that will cause or prevent your success.

You win by increments.

The reason my pottery-making friend isn’t living the life of her dreams is not because she didn’t get discovered. It’s because she didn’t make the follow-up call to the pottery store owner to ask to cover some of his hours in exchange for some shelf space to sell her wares. She didn’t do enough art fairs in the sweltering summer heat to build up a client base one customer at a time. She didn’t start an Instagram account to display her beautiful creations and the process for making them. Either she didn’t want it bad enough, or she erroneously believed that the art degree was the final step on the journey, or she expected someone to discover her and magically grant all her wishes.

Maybe it’s a little of all three. Regardless, it’s a shame.

It’s not difficult to make an average living in an average career working for an average company. But if you want to do something remarkable with your life, or if you have a dream that doesn’t quite fit the mold of “average,” well, that requires you to pick yourself and spend your days accumulating little breaks.

Or as artist and writer Molly Crabapple reflected, “I’ve never had a big break. I’ve just had tiny cracks in this wall of indifference until finally, the wall wasn’t there anymore.”

A college degree might be a stepping stone, a ticket you need to play the game, but it’s not the end of the line. And if your dream matters to you, you mustn’t wait for c-list celebrities to validate you, politicians to save you, or gatekeepers to let you in.

Stop waiting to be discovered.

Pick yourself. Make your own way.

Win by increments.

I know a guy who claims that his family is the most important thing in his life. 

He also brags about spending 300 days a year on the road as a speaker.

I don’t know how many hours one needs to spend with one’s loved ones to register as “enough,” but by my calculations, the math here doesn’t add up.

Why is the person who works 60-hour weeks, spends 200 days on the road, and sits on three charitable boards applauded when they say that family is the most important thing, but another person who quits the rat race to stay home and spend more time with their family is seen as an underachiever not living up to potential?

These are questions I wrestle with often. I want to make a gigantic impact on the world. I literally want to make a positive difference in the lives of one billion people. It is what has driven me since the first day I started this company. I want it more than anything.

Well, almost more than anything, it turns out.

A few years back, Kim and I were set to scale our business to the next level. We discussed plans for adding more people and initiating new projects, all with the goal of broadening our reach. Business was good, but we were set on making it bigger. 

And then.

After an exceptionally busy stretch when I was away from home, we nearly hit a breaking point. The combined effort of running a household, managing a business, taking care of three young kids, homeschooling, AND trying to take on new initiatives designed to grow our business proved to be just. Too. Much.

We were hit with the reality that we were not superhuman, after all.

And so we had to make some tough choices. It became clear that our kids were not getting our best. They were getting sloppy seconds…or even thirds. In the end, we decided that quality time with our family was actually more important to us than changing the world. We reminded ourselves that we are in a unique season of life, and although it seems like it when the days are long, our kids will in fact NOT be this young and dependent forever.

We ultimately decided that even if we made an impact in the lives of one billion people, but our kids turned out to be dillholes, we will have failed.

We didn’t abandon the business. We scaled back how much time we gave it, by working smarter, postponing some projects, and ditching the parts that took too much time for too little a return. Interestingly, since we made that decision, our business exploded, as has the time we spend together as a family. 

This isn’t always easy. Like I said, the inner drive to reach more people is strong in me. I am in constant fear that I am not living up to my potential. That I should be doing more. That the work we do is great, and that more people should know about it. Some days, putting my hours where my mouth is in order to spend more time with my family feels a lot like giving up on a dream.

But I only have 24 hours a day, just like you. Contrary to popular belief, you can’t do it all. Not well, at least. 

And saying that family is my number one priority is not the same as proving it with my actions.

In our society, this choice is not as commonplace, sexy, exciting, lucrative, or socially acceptable as sticking to our original plan of pushing, striving, and growing, while maintaining the facade that we’re balancing it all.

Kids don’t give us standing ovations, raises, or fancy gold-plated plaques.

I spent last Friday – a day I could have been working on the next big thing – with my kids at the library, reading Chronicles of Narnia, and learning how to make bowtie pasta.

When all is said and done, maybe I’ll regret prioritizing time with my kids over striving for a bigger impact with my work.

I have come to the conclusion that I will regret it more if I don’t.

The world is all stocked up on dillholes.

The starting gun is about to go off. The sprint is about to begin.

You remember the sprint, right? Before we were confined to our homes and our extracurricular activities got cut off at the knees, we were expert sprinters. Rushing from one thing to the next with great efficiency. Oh, our health sometimes suffered and we were often too dizzy to consider if all the activity was even worth it, but we were good at running the race. It was almost comfortable.

Then the world stopped.

For the first time in a long time, we had time on our hands. Time to spend with family. Time to prepare and eat real meals together. Time to go for walks. Like a scratch on a record, our normal pace was disrupted, and we had the chance to evaluate our lives and be reminded of what was really important.

Now, no matter how well we handled it, the disruption wore on us. A desire to get back to normal was ever-present, as we desperately missed some of the good parts of our old lives. We are ready to be together. To reunite with friends, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, singing the lyrics of our favorite song, or cheering a victory by our favorite team. We are excited to let our kids off the leash, to give them the freedom they’ve had withheld.

“No” has been the directive for so long, we are ready to start saying some big, loud yeses.

Indeed, in many ways, the sprint has already begun.

Restrictions are being lifted and reschedules of postponements are finally coming to fruition.

Our calendars are filling up faster than a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Danger, Will Robinson! Don’t fall into the trap Adultitis has set for you.

We are all so tired. I fear that once the starting gun goes off and the race resumes, we may find ourselves worse off than ever before. Especially if we resume the pace we got so comfortable maintaining when things were “normal.”
This is an opportunity to not return to normal, but to something better. But not if we let all our yeses drown out the lessons we learned from the lockdown. 

The key is focus.

Consider this definition from Jony Ive, the famed designer responsible for Apple’s iMac, iPod, and iPhone: “What focus means is saying no to something that with every bone in your body you think is a phenomenal idea and you wake up thinking about it, but you say no to it because you’re focusing on something else.”

If you want to win a race, you can’t run every which way. You have to focus on the finish line. You cannot let yourself be distracted by the other runners, the birds in the sky, or the lure of the hot dog vendor in the stands. In this race called life, decide on the goal. To focus means saying yes to the opportunities that get you closer to that goal, and turning down the ones that don’t.

What is your goal for your life? What really matters? For what or whom do you run?

Use the wisdom you’ve gained during this disruption to guide you in deciding what opportunities are worth saying yes to and which ones will just make you busy.

It’s time to run free.  After more than a year of No dominating our lives, we are ready.

Just remember: not everything has to be a yes. 

Hello, graduate. Congratulations on your accomplishments and a job well done!

Now for the fun part.

You’ve made it this far by following directions, filling in little circles, asking for permission, standing in line, and raising your hand before speaking up. The instructions have been clear: do this (take these classes, write this paper, complete this assignment) and get this (pass the course, earn a recommendation, receive a degree.)

You got to this point by following the rules. Now that you’ve graduated, it’s time to start breaking some.

Make no mistake, the work is not over. In fact, it’s only just beginning. If you continue looking for rules to follow — old habits die hard, after all — you will find them. You will be expected to be “realistic,” urged to find a job with good benefits, and encouraged to keep your inbox at zero. You’ll be handed a definition of success that puts an inordinate amount of emphasis on things that can be measured.

Follow these rules and you will most certainly succeed.

At being ordinary.

But, dear graduate, you were made for more than that. We desperately need you to be extraordinary. I know it doesn’t seem like it, because the examples of people doing it are few and far between. That’s mostly because it’s hard.

Paint-by-numbers are easy. But they don’t hang paint-by-numbers in the Louvre.

The rules you followed to this point will no longer serve you. If you want to make a difference in the world and be truly happy in life, you must follow your own way, and that includes leaving a few rules in your wake, broken and abandoned.

I’m not speaking of speed limits and tax laws, a few of the rules that DO exist and carry real consequences for breaking them. You’ll need to identify the ones that DON’T exist and disregard them like it’s your job.

Because it is.

It will help if you can keep close the five-year-old that still lives within you. It will not take long to realize that being an adult is not all it was cracked up to be. But Adulthood does have its perks, not the least of which is that now, finally, YOU are the boss of you. Life is a choose-your-own-adventure. That’s right: the choices are finally yours. Don’t abdicate this power to anyone else.

So listen to your inner child reminding you that it’s ok to eat dessert first once in a while, jump in puddles, and flaunt your weirdness.

It may be hard to believe, you don’t have to hate Mondays.
 
You don’t have to rely on your calendar to decide what days are worth celebrating.

And for the love of penguins, please don’t fall into the trap of being realistic.

My wish for you, dear friend, is the same one I have for my own children: a life filled with magic, meaning, love, and wonder.

Blessed are the rulebreakers. They shalt inherit the Future.

You’ve got this.

P.S. Penguins Can’t Fly is an excellent primer on the most prevalent rules that don’t exist. It’s designed to foster the curiosity needed to get better at spotting them in your own life, and provide the courage to break them with style and grace. (It also makes a perfect gift for graduates and anyone else interested in taking their story to new heights.)