Topic: Attitude

  • Reality Check

    “Reality Check” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    The Grand Prismatic is one of the things I was most looking forward to seeing on our family trip to Yellowstone National Park. It’s like I had to see it to believe it was real.

    This is not an uncommon sentiment when it comes to this magical place.

    The early explorers who came back with stories from Yellowstone were written off as crazy people. Surely a loose screw, an overindulgence in booze, or insanity caused by being alone for too long was easier to believe than the tall tales that returned. Upside-down waterfalls? Boiling rivers? Bubbling mud? Twenty-foot beasts?

    Please.

    Well, if you’ve never seen a geyser, hydrothermal activity, or an angry grizzly bear reared up on its hind legs, you’d deem these reports as unbelievable, too.

    I have been to Yellowstone, and in the words of Han Solo when speaking to Rey and Finn about the Force, “It’s true. All of it.” (Even the grizzlies, although I didn’t experience an angry one.) The place is filled with the unbelievable.

    But of course, now it is believable. Because we’ve seen the pictures and millions of us have visited, having driven through it on roads that weren’t there 150 years ago. And so the amazement has dimmed.

    Just like it has with all the wonders of this world.

    We are surrounded — besieged! saturated! deluged! — by the unbelievable, but because it’s familiar, we treat it like an afterthought. Every day becomes ho-hum.

    But pretend with me for a moment that you’re from Mars, a barren red wasteland, and you’re hearing about Earth for the first time. What if I told you it was a place where…

    Food grows right out of the ground.

    Water comes from a sky that regularly changes color throughout the day.

    Sometimes that water turns into trillions of tiny crystals that cover the ground and shine like diamonds when the sun hits it just right.

    Small flying insects use flowers to create a delicious, sweet liquid called honey.

    The people living there are created when two microscopic cells meet under just the right conditions.

    The majority of the oxygen those people depend on for survival comes from a vast army of invisible sea creatures.

    The people can fly across a vast ocean in a matter of hours.

    They burn ancient sea creatures to fuel their vehicles.

    They can significantly improve their vision by applying small slips of soft plastic to their eyeballs, and they just throw them away at the end of the day.

    They have small handheld devices that allow them to listen to any song ever recorded, communicate across continents by video, tell them how to get anywhere on Earth, and share cute photos of cats.

    And yes, there really are rainbow pools in this land that once teemed with animals bigger than a house.

    Balderdash! you say?

    Well, I’ve been there and it’s true. All of it.

    Unfortunately, the sad fact is that most of the people who live there take it all for granted. It’s all familiar. Ho-hum.

    Now that’s balderdash. Today, my friend is not just another day.

    Keep your eyes peeled. Don’t miss it.

    The unbelievable is everywhere.

  • Surfer Chicken

    “Surfer Chicken” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    I’ve watched surfers in Hawaii, San Diego, and yes, even here in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, which is also known as “The Malibu of the Midwest.”

    The majority of a surfer’s time seems to be spent paddling, floating, and waiting. From what I hear, it’s all worth it, because the feeling you experience when you’re in the middle of a great wave, having timed it just right, is a moment of euphoria.

    I feel like I have some sense of this as an artist. There are moments when I’m in the zone at my easel, when time stands still, every brush stroke feels pre-ordained, and the joy of creating fills my soul.

    But in between, there is the fishing for ideas, prepping the canvas, preparatory drawings and color studies, uncertain brushstrokes, frustration in mixing just the right color, constant distractions, and results that don’t match the vision in my head.

    The moment of euphoria — the small sliver of time in the zone — truly does make it all worth it.

    The magic doesn’t just happen, though. It requires a routine. You have to pull on your wetsuit. You have to lug your surfboard to the beach. You have to get out on the water. You have to put yourself in a position for the perfect wave. You have to wait and wait…and wait.

    I learned this as a cartoonist. When I was creating my comic strip, Kim & Jason, I spent time every morning writing. Most of the time, this so-called “writing” looked an awful lot like staring blankly into space. (Like how much of surfing looks like sitting on a surfboard floating in the water.) I realized that the key was committing to the entire time, no matter what, even if that meant I came away with zero ideas. Because a few minutes of staring blankly into space has a way of making you feel pretty foolish. You think of all the other things you have to get done, rationalize that maybe you just don’t have it today, and you’d be better served to switch to something more “productive.” 

    This is a trap! I reframed the win as sitting there for the whole thirty minutes, not coming up with a great idea. 

    Putting in the time, regardless of the result, is the key. Sometimes it involved jotting down ideas that weren’t very good (much like a surfer mistiming a wave or committing to one that peters out). More times than not, the best ideas came at the very end, after a long stretch of nothing. 

    I also discovered that ideas came more easily when I was faithful to the daily habit. Too long a break dried up the well and made staring back up even harder.

    No matter what our activity of interest, we want to experience the sexy highlights, like gliding effortlessly across a rushing wall of water, or putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece.

    But committed dedication to the practice is how you get there.

    A surfer who goes out every day is the one most likely to catch the wave when it comes. And because she is out there every day, practicing and honing the craft, when the ultimate wave does come, she’s more likely to have the skill to catch it properly and ride it as well and for as long as possible. She will possess the experience to make the most of that moment.

    The fisherman who fishes every day has the best chance of making the best catch.

    The runner who runs every day has the best chance of completing the marathon.

    The writer who writes every day has the best chance of writing something great.

    The parent who spends time with their child every day has the best chance of creating a memory that will last a lifetime or having a conversation that changes a life.

    It’s easy to desire the moment of euphoria.

    It’s even easier to give up too quickly when that moment feels too hard or too long in coming.

    The in-between parts are long, hard, and boring. They are also normal. Don’t let them take you by surprise and trick you into quitting too soon. 

    You can’t predict or summon the ultimate wave on demand, just as you can’t predict or summon a great idea. 

    But you can make yourself ready to make the most of it when it comes.

  • Evening Show

    “Evening Show” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 30. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD. 🔴 Shop this art!

    A clear night sky is a thing of beauty, with millions of stars blinking silently overhead.

    It’s a pity we rarely notice them.

    In an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David is speaking with a receptionist at a law firm who has a spectacular view of the city behind her. “Beautiful view here! How long did it take you to take it for granted?”

    She replies, “Umm, not long I guess.”

    He candidly admits, “It would take me about a day. Maybe less. Maybe half an hour. And I would never look out the window again.”

    How quickly we take wonder for granted.

    This painting was inspired by a passage I read in the book The Sense of Wonder, by conservationist Rachel Carson, who wrote about a summer her grandnephew visited her cottage in Maine, and together they wandered the surrounding woods and tide pools.

    She recounted a particular evening when they gazed in awe at one of those breathtaking night skies: 

    “It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century or even once in a human generation, this little headland would be thronged with spectators. But it can be seen many scores of nights in any year, and so the lights burned in the cottages, and the inhabitants probably gave not a thought to the beauty overhead; and because they could see it almost any night perhaps they will never see it.”

    Because they could see it almost any night, perhaps they will never see it.

    This painting takes its inspiration from those lights burning in the cottages, with the inhabitants giving not a thought of the beauty overhead.

    What if a party of giant glowing jellyfish appeared above your town and put on a light show? Surely that would get your attention.

    But what if it happened every year? Every week? Every night? How long would it take before everyone stopped caring?

    Not as long as you’d think.

    Apollo 11 landed on the moon. It was a huge source of national pride. Half a billion people were glued to their television sets watching the historic achievement.

    Nine months later—nine months!—flights to the moon had already become boring. By the time Apollo 13 came around, the television networks didn’t even bother covering the launch or broadcasting the live video of the crew from space because they felt there wasn’t enough interest. Nobody wanted their soap operas or game shows interrupted by another group of heroes doing what most people had never done before. Only until Apollo 13 got into trouble did anyone care.

    We grow numb to wonder.

    Look around you. What are you taking for granted? What are you missing?

    Be honest: When was the last time you gazed at the stars?

    Stood in awe at a sunrise bursting forth with color on the horizon?

    Sat in silence amidst the peace of a placid snowfall?

    I don’t know about you, but I am disgusted by this propensity to grow numb to wonder.

    But can we do anything about it?

    Fortunately, Rachel Carson shows us a way:

    “One way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?”

    One painting and two powerful questions remind us to keep our eyes peeled for the wonder all around us.

  • The Coach

    “The Coach” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This is part of “Adultitis Fighters,” a series of paintings by Jason Kotecki featuring real and fictional characters who serve as role models in the fight against Adultitis.

    Ted Lasso, the titular character of the TV series “Ted Lasso,” is a model of blue sky optimism and positivity. His humor and lightheartedness diffuse tension and bring joy, but he’s far from a naive pollyanna. Even though he had plenty of reasons to despair, from his failing marriage to his losing team, he didn’t succumb to pessimism and remained filled with hope. His sunny disposition and can-do attitude inspire us to maintain a positive outlook and approach challenges with resilience and determination.

    “Taking on a challenge is a lot like riding a horse, isn’t it? If you’re comfortable while you’re doing it, you’re probably doing it wrong.”

    “You say impossible, but all I hear is ‘I’m possible.’”

    “You beating yourself up is like Woody Allen playing the clarinet. I don’t wanna hear it.”

    “So I’ve been hearing this phrase y’all got over here that I ain’t too crazy about. ‘It’s the hope that kills you.’ Y’all know that? I disagree, you know? I think it’s the lack of hope that comes and gets you.”

  • The Big Kid

    “The Big Kid” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This is part of “Adultitis Fighters,” a series of paintings by Jason Kotecki featuring real and fictional characters who serve as role models in the fight against Adultitis.

    Paul Reubens embodied Pee-wee Herman with unparalleled dedication, seamlessly merging character and performer on and off-camera. His meticulous attention to detail, from wardrobe to mannerisms, and innovative comedic techniques, including breaking the fourth wall and surreal humor, contributed to Pee-wee’s iconic persona. Reubens’ commitment to silliness addressed universal themes with humor, resonating with millions and cementing his place as a comedic icon.

    “Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.“ 

    “That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

    “I’ve always felt like a kid, and I still feel like a kid, and I’ve never had any problem tapping into my childhood, and my kid side.”

    “Shhh! I’m listening to reason!”

    “I’m just trying to illustrate that it’s okay to be different — not that it’s good, not that it’s bad, but it’s all right. I’m trying to tell kids to have a good time and to encourage them to be creative and to question things.”

  • I Just Called to Say I Love You

    “I Just Called to Say I Loe You” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 16. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    “I Just Called to Say I Love You” is a famous Stevie Wonder song. It’s also the title of this painting.

    One word in that title might be more important than all the others. We’ll get to that in a sec.

    When my wife Kim and I were dating, we’d spend hours and hours on the phone, talking late into the night, racking up phone bills that if bound together, would make the longest Harry Potter book look like a pamphlet. This was in the days when phones were attached to walls and the “call waiting” feature was a source of civil war for any siblings also angling for phone rights.

    My personal phone habits with Kim were the exception, not the rule. To this day, I hate being on the phone, for reasons both justified and irrational, but too numerous to bore you with. I let almost everything go straight to voicemail. I am certain the quality of my life would increase exponentially if I never had to talk on the phone ever again. 

    Of course, the phone is a handy tool for maintaining relationships, which is another weakness of mine. Fortunately, my wife helps with that, as she does the little things that help keep relationships alive for both of us. I am an introvert, a Type 5w4 on the Enneagram (if you know, you know), and as previously mentioned, hate the phone. A generous assessment is that I spend a lot of time in my own head and it’s easy to get lost in there. Which is good for allowing me to create wonderful things, but not so good for maintaining friendships.

    Either way, it’s a perfect storm for a scenario in which if Kim dies before me, I’ll end up living alone in a home that neighborhood kids will describe as haunted and invent all sorts of urban legends about the old guy who supposedly lives there.

    Part of my problem is that I overthink relationships. In our own ways, maybe we all do.

    Friendships can stall if we make them too complicated or set expectations too high. Failing to meet them finds us buried in an ever-mounting pile of “shoulds.” The more time that passes, the more time we assume is required for catching up. And of course, life rarely drops oceans of uninterrupted time into our laps, so… the relationship slowly grows stale and eventually dies.

    A recent conversation convinced me of that being a flawed approach.

    Andy Gullahorn is a songwriter in Nashville who started an interesting routine with his friend Gabe several years ago. Every week, Andy goes for a walk. Gabe, who lives a mile and a half away, does the same thing at the same time. They walk toward each other, and when they meet, they give each other a high five. Sometimes they stop to play badminton. Oftentimes, no words are exchanged, and they simply head back home.

    Kim and I had a chance to interview Andy, and he shared another routine he has with a friend who lives in Houston. Since an in-person high-five is out of the question, every Monday for six years, they simply exchange fist bump emojis. That’s it. And yet the connection has deepened to such an extent that Andy says he trusts that friend with his life.

    Andy’s advice is to start small. And ridiculous. “It doesn’t have to be dead serious to make a deep connection,” he says. “In fact, if that’s where it starts, it’s hard to maintain that. The high five is just a stupid foundation to hold real relationship.”

    Of course, not every relationship needs to be maintained for all time. Some people come into our lives for a reason or a season. But Andy’s right. Maybe we should focus on uncomplicating the friendships we want to fertilize.

    In the interview, he challenged viewers to just commit to not having a deep conversation but to just exchange winks or honk at each other as they pass one another on the road, even without saying another word. 

    That’s why maybe the most important word in Stevie’s classic song is…”just.”

    I JUST called to say I love you. That’s it. No fanfare. No guilt trips. No phone bills weighty enough to kill a small mammal.

    We don’t always need to have an hour-long conversation for our relationships to thrive. 

    A high five or a fist bump emoji might just do the trick. 👊

  • Hallelujah Chorus

    “Hallelujah Chorus” by Jason Kotecki. 24x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    What makes life worth living?

    When we look back on a given year, it’s easy to identify the massive oak trees and tall pines that stand as signposts: the weddings and the funerals, the epic vacations, and the major accomplishments. 

    But we often overlook the small blessings – the birds within the trees, if you will.

    Our minds can only hold so much information, and in my experience, our hard drive space seems to dwindle with each passing year. The brain prioritizes the stuff it determines is important, discarding the rest. Those giant oaks and majestic pines take precedence.

    I’ve been rescuing things from the discard pile through a simple practice that makes it easier to spot those aforementioned birds.

    Once a day, I write down one happy moment from the day before. That’s it. One moment. One line. No paragraph or story or context. Most aren’t even full sentences. It’s like a verbal Polaroid, a snapshot in time that describes a simple moment of happiness. 

    But in the same way that a picture is worth a thousand words, that simple snapshot composed of a handful of words contains within it a treasure trove of details, emotions, and story.

    I do this in a Bullet Journal, with each Happy Moment taking up no more than one line on a page. One could adapt it by writing each Happy Moment on a Post-It note and dropping it into a jar with the intent of reading them when you need a pick-me-up.

    The practice takes me less than thirty seconds a day. The payoff comes at the end of the month or the year, when I re-read them all. 

    Kim and I recently spent time reviewing the previous year. The publication of Wonderhunt stood out, as did our Escape Adulthood Summit in Utah and family trips to Key West and Washington, D.C. But my favorite part was reading all 365 of my Happy Moments for the year.

    Here are a few highlights:

    Playing catch with Ben amidst the kites at Leland Park.
    The scallop dish with leeks and apple risotto at the Black Pig.
    Ginny rolling a strike on frame 10 with no bumpers.
    Staff dinner at the supper club.
    Seeing the walls finally up in the studio.
    Watching Lucy ride Chester with confidence.
    Family time on the front porch, eating push-ups.

    As you can see, none of these rise to the level of “major milestone.” Frankly, they’d probably be forgotten had I not taken the time to write them down at the time.

    But these happy moments become souvenirs of a wonderful journey. Perhaps even more than the achievements and milestones, they give me a feeling of aliveness and a sense that my year was spent well. They are reminders of what makes life worth living, and that I have been blessed in myriad ways, despite the defeats and sorrows that also populated the previous year.

    It’s easy to overlook the small songbirds hidden in the forest of our lives. But when we invest a few seconds to jot down one happy moment a day, reading them at the end of the month or year is magical. It’s like experiencing a sublime symphony, with each note harmoniously contributing its voice to a melody that slowly builds to a soaring crescendo of gratitude.

    It becomes a hallelujah chorus, exulting in the glorious gift of being alive.

  • Bear Attack

    “Bear Attack” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴  Shop this art!

    Make love, not war.

    Those hippies were on to something.

    No one likes war.

    Although “free love” turns out to not have been the best option, we do have to replace it with something.

    If I tell you to stop thinking about a pink elephant on roller skates, what are you thinking about? No matter what you do, DO NOT think about a pink elephant on roller skates. Just stop.

    But what if I told you to imagine a blue horse with spots of silver glitter galloping on top of a rainbow?

    It’s not enough to eliminate war, we need to replace it with something else. It’s not enough to eliminate a bad habit, we need to replace it with a good one. It’s not enough to eliminate negative thoughts, we need to replace them with positive ones.

    Our family enjoys watching Masterchef, the cooking competition reality show hosted by chef Gordon Ramsay. One of the home cooks who qualified was a former heroin addict named Ryan who admitted to spending ten years slowly killing himself. His dad stayed by his side, never giving up hope. Finally, a breakthrough came, and Ryan became obsessed with cooking, learning and perfecting various techniques. He shared how crucial it was to give his addictive personality something else to focus on.

    You can try to stop being afraid. Or you can start being grateful. Because it’s impossible to feel fear when you are being grateful.

    So what if instead of dropping fear into your mind, you dropped gratitude instead?

    Instead of dropping political rants on social media, what if you dropped encouraging words or funny photos onto your timeline instead?

    Instead of dropping judgement on one another, what if we dropped compliments instead?

    This painting is a reminder that if we truly want to get rid of something bad, we need to replace it with something good.

    Drop gummy bears, not bombs.

  • Celebrate Life

    “Celebrate Life” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 30. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    My daughter has raised monarch butterflies for the past few years. They undertake a migratory journey from southern Canada to Mexico (up to 3,000 miles!), making them beacons of strength, hope, and resilience as well as symbols of change and transformation. 

    Take a good, hard look at any caterpillar. If we’re honest, they’re kind of ugly. There’s nothing about a caterpillar to convince an unbeliever that it would ever be able to fly, let alone transform into something so stunningly beautiful. 

    Is it an ugly worm that crawls on the ground or a majestic creature that flies on the wind?

    Both.

    Storms are a part of life. Sometimes they come in the form of a diagnosis we don’t want to hear. Sometimes they come in the form of a global pandemic. They are out of our control. The only thing we can control is how we react to them. 

    The truth is, there is more to any situation than meets the eye.

    Life is neither perfect nor pretty. But if you look close enough, you will find blessings in disguise and reasons to celebrate.

  • Greatest Of All Time

    “Greatest Of All Time” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD. 🔴 Shop this art!

    How many Super Bowl rings does it take to become a goat?

    I am not referring to those four-legged cheese-making mammals with a taste for tin cans.

    I’m talking about the label of “GOAT” – the Greatest Of All Time.

    As I write this, Tom Brady recently retired after twenty-two seasons in the NFL. He was the 199th pick in the draft, yet ended up with seven Super Bowl rings and threw more touchdown passes than anyone in history. He never played on a losing team. He is widely regarded as the GOAT, at least when it comes to quarterbacks.

    Frankly, I’m still getting used to being labeled a “goat” as a good thing. In 1986, Bill Buckner was called a goat for letting an easy ground ball roll past him in a World Series game, and it definitely wasn’t meant as a compliment. (Ah, the ever-present thin line between hero and villain.)

    Debating the greatest of all time is a juicy topic for sports talk radio, but what makes the discussion so compelling? Why such an obsession with greatness?

    Besides the fact that we like comparing things (and arguing!), greatness stirs something within us. We are inspired when we see it manifested, be it in the long and decorated career of Tom Brady or in the gold medal performance of figure skater Nathan Chen.

    But greatness stretches far beyond the sports world:

    🥘We see it in a delicious dish prepared with ease by Gordon Ramsay. 
    ✈️We saw it in the remarkable daring and bravery of Amelia Earhart. 
    🐯We saw it in the spellbinding gentleness and kindness of Fred Rogers. 
    🙏We saw it in the compelling selflessness and compassion of Mother Teresa. 

    The greatness of these individuals is so profound and self-evident, it’s easy to assume they are rare geniuses who possess mystical talents. Their level of excellence appears unattainable for us mere mortals. Their talent is unmistakable, but the individuals we place on the pedestal of greatness are merely human beings whose extraordinary results came from the consistent practice of ordinary things.

    Our preoccupation with debating the greatest of all time is a trap that prevents us from striving for greatness ourselves.

    It’s easier to argue about the top five saints of all time than to aim to become one. 

    Am I suggesting you are GOAT material?

    Actually, yes. 

    Hear me out. Usually, the title of GOAT is bestowed on someone famous, known for their professional accomplishments, and often in a domain conducive to measurable outcomes…

    But what about people who aren’t famous?  Isn’t it possible that some Incan woman possessed unmatched skill as a potter, with her only flaw being born at a time when she couldn’t have her own YouTube channel?

    And what if your skill is not as esteemed or public as that of a professional athlete or celebrity chef? Could an unknown Amish grandmother technically be the greatest bread maker of all time? And tell me, who is the greatest school custodian of all time? The greatest dental hygienist of all time? The greatest administrative assistant of all time?

    What about domains lacking metrics that are easy to quantify? When it comes to football, we can compare wins, passing yards, touchdowns, longevity, playoff appearances, awards, and Super Bowl rings, all while debating the relative importance of each. But how would one go about naming the Greatest Mother of All Time? The Greatest Father of All Time? The Greatest Wife or Husband or Friend or Next Door Neighbor of All Time? 

    Most of us don’t have trading cards with our pictures on them, and if we did, they wouldn’t have stats on the back totaling Boo-Boos Kissed, Lunches Prepared, Loads of Laundry Completed, Encouraging Words Spoken, or Hugs Delivered. 

    Without these metrics a Google search away, what would it take for you to become the GOAT?

    If you’re normal, you might be thinking, slow your roll, buddy. I already feel like I’m falling short, day after day. I barely qualify as a good parent, let alone the greatest of all time. 

    I hear you. Sometimes I feel like I’m leading the league in dropped balls.

    The good news is that the seeds of greatness are in our DNA because we each have a spark of the divine within us. 

    Simply put, you were born for greatness. 

    Don’t let my famous examples fool you. The dictionary defines great as “remarkable in magnitude, quality, skill, or effectiveness.” The steps to achieve greatness are accessible to everyone. Including me. And you. The steps are simple, but not easy.

    🔎 Identify Your Gifts. What talents have you been given? If they don’t immediately come to mind, settle into a quiet place. Take stock of the things you do well. Where do you shine? What comes easily to you? What do you love doing? What do people compliment you for? These are your gifts. Remember, “better than everyone else in the world” at anything is not a requirement for greatness.

    🎁 Honor Your Gifts. If you treasure a gift, you don’t take it for granted or throw it in a corner. To give your gifts the respect they deserve, use them, share them, and work to improve them. Shoring up weaknesses can be helpful, but keep in mind that Mister Rogers wasn’t as bold and gregarious as Gordon Ramsay, who was not as gentle or vulnerable as Mister Rogers. Greatness lies in maximizing your strengths. 

    🔒 Be Committed. Greatness requires the willingness to do what no one else will. Not many are willing to stick to the diet and workout routine that helped Tom Brady stay so productive for so long. Even fewer are clamoring to comfort the sick and clean the sores of people living in the slums of Calcutta, as Mother Teresa did. Amelia Earhart was willing to attempt things no one else had ever done, consequences be damned. Greatness requires immense courage and bravery. You have to be willing to challenge conventional wisdom, buck the status quo, and take a stand without any guarantee that anyone will follow you. 

    🧗 Keep Going. Nathan Chen’s debut Olympic performance was a disaster, riddled with falls. Gordon Ramsay didn’t make a perfect omelet on his first try. Tom Brady didn’t win every playoff game he was in. The great ones aren’t people who never get knocked down. They’re the ones who keep getting up when they do. Anybody can have a good day, a good week, or even a good year. The greats show up year after year. They are persistent, consistent, and stand the test of time. 

    🚀 Empower Others. Through his example alone, Fred Rogers inspired millions of people, most of whom never met him, to treat others with more respect and kindness than they might have otherwise. Tom Brady’s drive, high standards, and work ethic empowered his teammates to be better. Mother Teresa built a community of sisters who followed her lead and carried on her work after she was gone. Your own humble journey toward greatness may be your most enduring legacy.

    We can’t count on being considered the greatest. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive to be great.

    It’s unlikely that you or I will ever be publicly regarded as the “GOAT” of anything. Unless you’re Muhammad Ali – “I am the greatest!” – the title is bestowed on you by others. We can’t control it. Who cares?

    When it comes to greatness, everyone else is irrelevant. I agree with Hemingway, who said, “There is nothing noble to being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

    There is one category you can be assured of being the GOAT, and that’s the category of YOU.

    Your job is to be the Greatest You of All Time.

    If you learned a new thing today or did something to improve your craft or make yourself better than you were yesterday, congrats. You are officially the greatest YOU of all time.

    If you got up today after being knocked down yesterday, your legend just gained a new comeback story, and you’re officially the greatest YOU of all time.

    If you used one of your gifts to make someone’s day or lessen the burden of another soul, your scoreboard of contributions to the world just increased by one, officially making you the greatest YOU of all time.

    Instead of wasting our time arguing over who is the GOAT, may we use their example as inspiration to cultivate our own greatness within us.

    Identify your gifts. Honor them by honing them and sharing them with others. Be committed. Keep going. And empower others along the way. 

    Regardless of whether or not you play in the NFL or make soufflés on TV, those principles are controllable. If you practice them, I can’t guarantee you’ll ever be deemed the GOAT by pundits, historians, or late-night callers on talk radio. 

    But I will guarantee that people will be inspired by the greatness they see within you. 

    No Super Bowl rings required.