Nobody grasped you by the shoulder while there was still time. Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and hardened, and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician, the poet, the astronomer that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.
— Antoine de Saint-Exupery
No quote has troubled me more over the years than this one from Saint-Exupery’s Mountain Light: In Search of the Dynamic Landscape, Tenth-Anniversary Edition[email protected] )
“For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”
Steve Jobs
I remember the day as if it was yesterday.
A Saturday morning in early October.
7:00 am.
Clear and cool.
Through my hermetically sealed windows on the 18th floor, I could see the sun glistening on the Connecticut River.
The leaves of a glorious New England autumn on full display.
All of the glitz and glitter from graduating from law school, taking the bar exam, and starting out at a prestigious Big Firm had faded away.
The succession of 70 hour weeks and mandatory Saturdays had begun to wear me down.
I looked across my mahogany desk piled high with files to the credenza with my time sheets on which I marked the value of my existence in six minute increments.
I thought about the long day ahead.
I thought about the harvest festival fair that I’d miss with my kids.
This beautiful fall day that I’d spend working on a brief that would suck my soul.
And I asked out loud (to no one because no one was listening): Is this the way it will be for the next thirty or forty years?
Indeed, it was 25 years before I freed myself from what one therapist called “the golden handcuffs.”
Yes, I made a lot of money.
I got the corner office.
I got the nice car, and the sprawling house in the suburbs, and the big boat.
Yes, I’d become a “success.”
But I wasn’t happy.
Truth be told: It wasn’t easy to escape.
In fact, it was pretty scary.
But now, I wake up every single day, excited and on fire about the work I get to do.
I don’t have many regrets. But I do regret not having the courage to pivot sooner.
Because life is short. And joy is your birthright.
If your heart is telling you that it’s time for a new chapter, listen.
(The work I do is helping folks create their exciting next chapter. Email me when you’re ready to talk! [email protected] )
I help mid-career professionals create their exciting next chapters.
My clients are amazingly diverse. They’ve enjoyed careers in myriad arenas. They are lawyers, doctors, allied health practitioners, mortgage brokers, realtors, and financial planners.
They’re ready for a change.
But there lies the problem.
Because change is scary.
My clients have made money, earned accolades, established reputations, and climbed their ladders of success.
And now are starting out anew.
Which can cause them to get stuck.
Here’s the question I ask: What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
They always know.
The question is valuable not only in career change, but at every inflection point in our lives: A new product or program; a book idea; some time away; a grand adventure; the possibility of a new relationship.
When you feel the fear, ask the question: What would I do if I weren’t afraid.
Then do that.
“Don’t wish it was easier, wish you were better. Don’t wish for less problems, wish for more skills. Don’t wish for less challenge, wish for more wisdom.” –Jim Rohn
When Ann and I got together, she’d been a runner, and I’d been a mountain climber.
She said, “Honey, if I’m going to do this mountain climbing shit, you’re going to become a distance runner.”
I ran my first marathon with Ann at age 53; and together we’ve run six ultra-marathons since.
Ann has stood on four of the Seven Summits with me; and we’ve climbed big mountains together all around the world.
I got it in my head one day that it would be cool to combine the running thing and climbing thing. So I suggested that we begin to run trails.
Ann was resistant. “I don’t want to fall,” she said.
“Honey,” I replied, “You will fall; and you will bleed.”
Which annoyed her. A lot.
Since that time, we’ve run through the Andes, across the Grand Canyon, and up and down trails wherever we happen to be.
And… we have fallen and bled. A lot.
Because it comes with the territory.
Here’s the truth: Whenever you’re doing a new thing, whenever you push beyond your comfort zone, it’s hard.
Running, climbing, building a business, navigating a complicated deal, writing a book, building new relationships…
It’s hard work.
You will fall and you will bleed. Actually. Metaphorically. Sometimes both.
No one likes hard.
No one wants to fall and bleed.
But if you want a big life, it comes with the territory.
These are tumultuous times.
There is no escaping it.
The ordinary stressors of life are enough. Work. Bills. Family. Health. The relentless pace of it all.
And then there’s the wider world. The noise. The anger. The division. The uncertainty.
It’s a lot. More than a lot. It can feel overwhelming.
If you feel anxious or afraid; if you feel exhausted; if you feel like you don’t know which way is up; know that you are not alone.
But… how do you stay steady? How do you keep your head above water? How do you hold your center when everything around you feels like it’s unraveling?
You double down on what keeps you whole.
Now is not the time to neglect yourself. Now is the time to fiercely protect your well-being.
You need rest. Real rest. Not just collapsing at the end of the day, scrolling through the latest outrage. Turn off the noise. Read a book. Take a nap. Go outside.
Move your body. Stretch. Walk. Run. Breathe fresh air. The body holds onto stress—let it move through you instead of getting stuck.
Eat real food. Drink water. Cut back on sugar, caffeine, and doom-scrolling. It all adds up. It all affects how you feel.
This is a time for grounding. A time for stillness. A time for prayer.
Whatever your practice—morning quiet, scripture, meditation, gratitude—return to it. Let it hold you. Let it remind you of what is true.
The world will shout at you to panic. But your soul knows another way. A deeper way.
Make space to listen.
Feelings are not facts. But they are messengers.
Pay attention to what you are feeling, but do not let it consume you. Name it. Anxiety. Fear. Sadness. Frustration. Let it be there without letting it take over.
Talk to someone you trust. A friend. A mentor. A therapist. You do not have to carry it all alone.
Set boundaries. Guard your attention. The world is loud, but you get to choose what you let in.
Protect your peace.
Fear thrives in the future. Regret lives in the past. But steadiness is found in the now.
What is good in this moment? What is real? The warmth of a cup of coffee. The sound of laughter. The kindness of a stranger.
Come back to your breath. Come back to your body. Come back to this moment.
Right here. Right now.
You are okay.
You won’t always feel grounded. Some days will be harder than others. That’s okay. Keep coming back.
Take care of yourself. Tend to your soul. Be kind to your mind. Move your body.
You are not meant to carry the weight of the world. Do what you can. Love who you can. Trust that goodness remains.
The storm may rage, but you can stay steady.
And remember: You are not alone.
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